mountain of joy

Over New Years weekend, after ringing in 2011 with a dear friend over dinner and fireworks on the riverfront, I headed to Kirirom, a small mountain a few hours south of the city for a weekend retreat away. Kirirom means "Mountain of Joy"--  a name given by the king in 1945 when he built a retreat center there. The name itself felt like a personal invitation...

This is not a Lonely Planet destination by any means. Only once did I see a white face, for a split second while visiting a temple on the mountaintop. Hardly anyone was around, and quiet was what I was looking for. I needed mountains, even if it was only 2,200 feet. And fresh air. And green trees--palm, bamboo, and even an entire pine forest only found in these higher altitudes. I hiked to a stunning waterfall, marveled at rocks and leaves and a butterfly wing... it was food for this Alaskan country girl's soul for certain. 

At the base of the mountain is a small community of 761 families. Their story is incredible, and I wanted to share it: 

Exactly thirty-two years ago today, on January 7, 1979, the four-year rule of the Khmer Rouge that killed close to 1/4 of the nation's population ended.  "Victory over Genocide" is now a national holiday, and Cambodia is an entirely different country today. However, it's only in fairy tales that the bad guys get kicked out and suddenly everyone lives happily ever after. This is not the case after any nationwide conflict. People are displaced, infrastructures are destroyed. The people of this community know this well... 

After the Khmer Rouge fell, remaining rebels fled to the hills--many to the Cardamom Mountains. On the edge of this mountain range sits Kirirom Mountain, and at the base of Kirirom, this small village. Rice farmers, they had called this land home for generations. But by 1979, their home was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Because they were located in what was now a portal into Khmer Rouge rebel territory, they were no longer able to stay there safely. They first had to move to another district within their province, where they stayed for a year. In 1980, they were relocated to another area for three years. In 1983, they were allowed to return to their land, where they invested blood, sweat and tears to rebuild destroyed homes and revive overgrown fields. All was well for 6 years, long enough to believe they were "out of the woods," until the Khmer Rouge presence increased and the Cambodian government told the community that if they did not move, they would be assumed to be Khmer Rouge rebels themselves, enemies of state. And so again, this band of brothers, grandmothers, sisters and wives packed their cooking pots and rice, their babies on their hips, and moved to to a refugee camp 20 kilometers east. For ten years. Here they married, birthed and buried. 

When word came in 1998 [count it: only 12 years ago] that the Khmer Rouge leader in the area had died and they could return to their homeland, many could hardly believe it. Afraid of yet another move, some did not build proper houses for years. It seemed too much an investment after so much disappointment. Trees had grown up in their rice fields, and there wasn't enough food for everyone. Hungry and in need of a new way to supplement their harvests, they discovered that much profit can be made on lumber. For four years they cut down and sold their trees, until it started becoming clear that this wasn't a long-term option and these resources were dwindling. An international group came in to help them develop a plan for ecological sustainability + creative income: Ecotourism, a form of tourism that is run by the community for the community. Values = cultural and ecological conservation. A growing model in Cambodia and a welcome alternative to kitchy consumeristic tourism. 

And so in 2003, they officially opened the arms of their community to local and international tourists who want to experience provincial Cambodian hospitality and culture.  Most families participates in some way. The women have a small restaurant, in which they all rotate cooking for weekend guests. Some produce handicrafts which they sell at a small stand along with snacks and drinks near their community center.  Thirty-five families provide homestays for $3 per night. Organized by a Cambodian environmental group, most of the income returns directly to the community. Some goes to participating families, some to community improvement projects, and a portion goes into a "kitty" that is saved to help families who face crisis. 

I spent a day and night in this village. I was moved by their story, maybe because I resonate with this thing of starting life over again...and again. And as always, I was in awe at the hospitality showed to strangers, namely this strange gigantic white girl (I've decided I'm big here by Cambodian standards--my nose, my pant size, my 65" inch height. But I'm OK with it, really!) Here are some pictures: of my homestay, of the bed I slept in under a mosquito net in the front house, and of my lovely guide. 

Happy New Years ... and Victory Over Genocide Day.