Cambodia 2011 Peace Project Event (Part1 The Story)

PREVI HEAR JOURNAL 2011 ! The Peace Project
PREVI HEAR JOURNAL 2011 ! The Peace Project
Apsaara Authority. He
is walking with his wife.
He appears drunk. I walk
across to him. tHe man
who is short and stumpy is
slightly swaying in sandals
and shorts with his wife is
standing beside him. He
is on the path between the
second and first temple.
He declares, ‘It is not
allowed to paint any words
or documents in THAI on
this mountain.It is illegal.
You will be arrested and
taken to the prison.”
He is the Previ-Hear
Director for the Tourist
Authority. I think to myself,
”How did he get there?
Who is he?”
As I stare at his feet I
see big black toe nails. The
nails look onion grey and
gnarled like old tree bark.
I explain that the message
of peace requires to be
written in all languages
of the word. My words are
being translated through
Sokkeng as I speak them.
His brown color on his face
has been replaced by a
mushroom grey pallor. His
lower lip twitches. He hears
me, but he doesn’t want to
hear. He shouts again, “It is
against the law!”
I mumble quietly. ”We are
only painting a message
about peace.This message
deserves to be shown and
written. What is wrong with
a message about p[eace. It
does not advocate violence.”
Sre Pick is looking at me
with sad eyes. The cameras
have been put down. turned
off. He explains again. the
issue. His eyes are defiant,
but I cannot see them since
he is wearing sunglasses.
A ripple of ugliness washes
through the crows. People
have gathered. He then
says. I will ring the police
immediately and have
you arrested you all if you
proceed. He then turns to
Mr Vanna as says, “Why
has this happened? Why
have you allowed this to
happen?”
“Your excellency, I
was waiting for them
to begin. The moment
they applied the letters
the police we ready to
arrest them. It was only
minutes away.”
I stare in
astonishment.I am
confused and fail to
understand. Then
like a burning red
dawn rising above the
tropical landscape the
realization burst into
my tiny brain.
We pack up and
return to the village.
DAY
EIGHTEEN
Saturday,
27th of
November
2011
Sra ‘Aem
Today is the final
day we return to the
mountain of Previ
Hear. Our task is to
unpick the staples which hold the huge
canvas to its wooden backing and then
roll it into a cylinder. We will say our
last goodbyes and take one snatched
glimpse of where we have spent so
much time. Now at the summit Sokkeng
runs towards me over the rocky slope
across a gentle incline at a
canter. The white blistering
sun casts a grayish light
through the clouds behind
him. The sword grass
weaves like a distant friend.
It has a bleached-out and
dried-up look. Shattered
granite boulders dot the
grassy perimeter. The
temple steps incline off
to the right. Adjacent to
him an emaciated soldier
with drooping jowls sits
everyday in front of the
toilet block As Sokkeng
gallops across the grass he
snatches a glance at the
soldier and then resumes
running.. The soldier sports
a torn suite and gaudy
fake-gold epaulet. He is
reclining on a deck tornchair
like a circus clown
on the Titanic. He smiles
through cracked teeth,
absentmindedly accepting
crumpled rial from the
tourists who disappear into
the toilet canister. The flies
buzz. He wanders over to
pretend to wash the toilet
block with disinfectant and
a broken brush. Half-asleep
the soldier looks up.
Sokkeng exclaims, “Mr
Vanna has not permitted
us to film today. He says we
must leave the mountain
by four or risk arrest. He
also said everyone here will
go to the prison if any of
the footage is shown to the
public!”
I nonchalantly nod and
think, ”At least its finished.
It’s a relief. Everything is
finished.”
The Blue Buddha canvas
is lying face-down on the
wooden supports in the
grass near the first temple.
Half of it sits on the easel
looking happy. The other
half sits in my mind like
a half-eaten doughnut
waiting to be digested.
The Thai sentences for
the declaration remain
scattered across the earth
as pieces of plastic stencils.
A few blow in the wind like
leaves waiting to be applied.
Mr Happy Times, “Mao”
bends down to collect them
with his thick stubby fingers
and stuffs them into a
plastic shopping bag
like scattered wedding
confetti. I think, ” I guess
that the Thai will not
happen now. Its not how
I envisaged the project
ending, but instead it’s
how it ended. We made a
message for peace and
nobody wants it. Its the
usual way it goes. The
people who are here are
just are paid to do their
job. Think inside the box
and do what they are
told to. One of the young
soldiers, a corporal, who
has guarded the picture
every night runs across
to us with his fat waddle,
happy and smiling with
moony molasses eyes.
“You have been invited
to afternoon tea by the
the lieutenant.:
I think, “It must have
been my gift!”
The invitation has
come from the ones
who had painted the
picture or rather
letters yesterday. As