I felt spiritually blank and physically weak when I read that Vann Nath, a Cambodian painter and probably one of the few survivors of the Khmer Rouge genocide camp whom I met in Cambodia in August 2008, had died on Sept 4, 2011 at the age of 65. I met Vann Nath at a seminar about the sites of conscience organised by the Liberation War Museum of Dhaka and institutions that help them. After meeting him, I returned a different person with many illusions about political claims gone forever.
Vann Nath’s story continued to haunt me in the following weeks until I wrote his story and published it in a Nepali daily (Naya Patrika, Sept 13, 2008). He narrated his story at the opening of the seminar in Phnom Penh. I was shaken by the aporia that continues to be a reality in a society that was grappling with haunting memories. The entire society was torn between a sense of vengeance and forgiveness, anger and oblivion. But the focus of the current generation of Cambodians was on giving justice to the survivors of the Khmer Rouge atrocity that killed close to two million Cambodians and rereading history with children to tell them that it should not be repeated. Cambodia is still struggling with this dual sense of responsibility.
Moved, awed and shocked by Vann Nath’s story, I talked to him for a couple of hours assisted by a young lady who was fluent in English. A simple villager, Vann Nath learned art in the capital to make a living. He became a portraitist. After the Khmer Rouge came to power in 1975, he was arrested. He did not know why he was arrested. He was taken on a truck to an unknown destination. On the way, Vann Nath saw dead bodies of youths on the roadsides. Others were walking carrying whatever luggage they could carry. Even those without legs or arms were seen crawling to unknown destinations.
He was taken to a jungle area where they were asked to make their own leaf shades and grow vegetables with their bare hands. Vann Nath spent about a year there. He had just gotten married. He did not know where his wife was. The Khmer Rouge did not trust them. He looked at the terrified faces of people around him to know how he himself must have looked. Vann Nath had drawn many faces, but he had never drawn such contours as he saw there. One day, hands tied behind his back, he was taken to a jail in Batdom Bong province.
On Dec 31, 1977, Vann Nath was taken to a scary security cell. He saw iron rods, fresh blood on the floor and plastic bags for suffocation. He denied he had instigated people against the Khmer Rouge. Vann Nath had heard that conquerors also took slaves and mistreated them after taking other people’s lands. But since they were his own countrymen, he thought they would give him a chance to speak. After all, they too looked tired and were acting for others.
Electric current ran all over his body. He felt he had entered fire before he passed out. They had apparently dipped his head in water. He heard somebody calling him from across the river. He had become a nonentity, a stone. He entered fire and woke on a riverbank so many times. Like a piece of iron alternating between flames and water, Vann Nath had become completely destroyed. He knew how a man could alternate between fire and water and still survive.
On Jan 7, 1978, Vann Nath was bundled on to a truck and taken to Phnom Penh. After a sad photographer took his photo, he was taken to Block D. He was still hoping that they would listen to his story. About 50 to 60 people were crammed into the narrow room. One day, he woke up from a terrible dream to find that one man tied with him had died. They removed him only after about three hours. They gave him some food in the morning and again after 12 hours. But with the dead man tied to him, he could not swallow food.
Vann Nath felt that was neither life nor death. Nobody had committed any crime there. The torture was not morally justified. This world, Vann Nath thought, is either sustained by faith in god or by love. The other thing that would run the world is fear of people’s voice. If none of these things exist, he thought, nothing would sustain the world. Life would be chaos. There were half-living, dying and dead people around Vann Nath. He saw no difference between those stages. When a man tied to him who had not spoken a word with him died, Vann Nath became courageous. He no longer had to worry about the semi-ruined life.
One day, Vann Nath heard somebody calling his name. He was surprised. He heard him utter his own name. He was surprised he was still speaking. That man ordered Vann Nath’s release from chains. He left all those tied by the same chains behind. Those human beings had become his greatest friends and were his compatriots. They had suffered the same fate; the same electric current had run over them in turn. They had seen each other faint in rotation. They had become friends in the silent moments of torture.
Vann Nath was taken to a room where artists and sculptors were working. A photograph was put before him and he was asked to name the person in it. Vann Nath said he looked like some Chinese person to him. The man became furious, and said that the photograph was of comrade Khieu Samphan. He was asked to make a sketch of the picture. Vann Nath said he was not in a position even to stand, and that his eyesight was failing. To his surprise, he heard the voice of protest from his mouth. He was given three days’ rest. He made the portrait with great difficulty. They became happy with the portrait of Khieu Samphan. However, they did not release him. In 1979, after the Khmer Rouge regime fell under a Vietnamese attack, he was released. Vann Nath almost became mad with joy when he found his wife. She had survived.
Vann Nath recreated images of the torture in the camps, and presented a powerful example of how visuality and torture could be put together to create wisdom. I saw the S-21 prison where Vann Nath was tortured with the others. Many photographs of those 16,000 tortured and killed there have become the focus of a dark tourism industry today. It is a big subject of discussion. The next day, Vann Nath gave me a copy of The Phnom Penh Post that had published a photo of him and me together. Today, this picture fills me with a sense of sublime awe.
Vann Nath’s story tells us that total faith in freedom and respect for human life alone can save humanity and the world. Ethics should guide politics. Sadly, torture has almost become ethics in the post-political world. In Nepal, I pay tribute to the politicians who have put politics on the path of freedom and elections. I wish them success!
Vann Nath’s story continued to haunt me in the following weeks until I wrote his story and published it in a Nepali daily (Naya Patrika, Sept 13, 2008). He narrated his story at the opening of the seminar in Phnom Penh. I was shaken by the aporia that continues to be a reality in a society that was grappling with haunting memories. The entire society was torn between a sense of vengeance and forgiveness, anger and oblivion. But the focus of the current generation of Cambodians was on giving justice to the survivors of the Khmer Rouge atrocity that killed close to two million Cambodians and rereading history with children to tell them that it should not be repeated. Cambodia is still struggling with this dual sense of responsibility.
Moved, awed and shocked by Vann Nath’s story, I talked to him for a couple of hours assisted by a young lady who was fluent in English. A simple villager, Vann Nath learned art in the capital to make a living. He became a portraitist. After the Khmer Rouge came to power in 1975, he was arrested. He did not know why he was arrested. He was taken on a truck to an unknown destination. On the way, Vann Nath saw dead bodies of youths on the roadsides. Others were walking carrying whatever luggage they could carry. Even those without legs or arms were seen crawling to unknown destinations.
He was taken to a jungle area where they were asked to make their own leaf shades and grow vegetables with their bare hands. Vann Nath spent about a year there. He had just gotten married. He did not know where his wife was. The Khmer Rouge did not trust them. He looked at the terrified faces of people around him to know how he himself must have looked. Vann Nath had drawn many faces, but he had never drawn such contours as he saw there. One day, hands tied behind his back, he was taken to a jail in Batdom Bong province.
On Dec 31, 1977, Vann Nath was taken to a scary security cell. He saw iron rods, fresh blood on the floor and plastic bags for suffocation. He denied he had instigated people against the Khmer Rouge. Vann Nath had heard that conquerors also took slaves and mistreated them after taking other people’s lands. But since they were his own countrymen, he thought they would give him a chance to speak. After all, they too looked tired and were acting for others.
Electric current ran all over his body. He felt he had entered fire before he passed out. They had apparently dipped his head in water. He heard somebody calling him from across the river. He had become a nonentity, a stone. He entered fire and woke on a riverbank so many times. Like a piece of iron alternating between flames and water, Vann Nath had become completely destroyed. He knew how a man could alternate between fire and water and still survive.
On Jan 7, 1978, Vann Nath was bundled on to a truck and taken to Phnom Penh. After a sad photographer took his photo, he was taken to Block D. He was still hoping that they would listen to his story. About 50 to 60 people were crammed into the narrow room. One day, he woke up from a terrible dream to find that one man tied with him had died. They removed him only after about three hours. They gave him some food in the morning and again after 12 hours. But with the dead man tied to him, he could not swallow food.
Vann Nath felt that was neither life nor death. Nobody had committed any crime there. The torture was not morally justified. This world, Vann Nath thought, is either sustained by faith in god or by love. The other thing that would run the world is fear of people’s voice. If none of these things exist, he thought, nothing would sustain the world. Life would be chaos. There were half-living, dying and dead people around Vann Nath. He saw no difference between those stages. When a man tied to him who had not spoken a word with him died, Vann Nath became courageous. He no longer had to worry about the semi-ruined life.
One day, Vann Nath heard somebody calling his name. He was surprised. He heard him utter his own name. He was surprised he was still speaking. That man ordered Vann Nath’s release from chains. He left all those tied by the same chains behind. Those human beings had become his greatest friends and were his compatriots. They had suffered the same fate; the same electric current had run over them in turn. They had seen each other faint in rotation. They had become friends in the silent moments of torture.
Vann Nath was taken to a room where artists and sculptors were working. A photograph was put before him and he was asked to name the person in it. Vann Nath said he looked like some Chinese person to him. The man became furious, and said that the photograph was of comrade Khieu Samphan. He was asked to make a sketch of the picture. Vann Nath said he was not in a position even to stand, and that his eyesight was failing. To his surprise, he heard the voice of protest from his mouth. He was given three days’ rest. He made the portrait with great difficulty. They became happy with the portrait of Khieu Samphan. However, they did not release him. In 1979, after the Khmer Rouge regime fell under a Vietnamese attack, he was released. Vann Nath almost became mad with joy when he found his wife. She had survived.
Vann Nath recreated images of the torture in the camps, and presented a powerful example of how visuality and torture could be put together to create wisdom. I saw the S-21 prison where Vann Nath was tortured with the others. Many photographs of those 16,000 tortured and killed there have become the focus of a dark tourism industry today. It is a big subject of discussion. The next day, Vann Nath gave me a copy of The Phnom Penh Post that had published a photo of him and me together. Today, this picture fills me with a sense of sublime awe.
Vann Nath’s story tells us that total faith in freedom and respect for human life alone can save humanity and the world. Ethics should guide politics. Sadly, torture has almost become ethics in the post-political world. In Nepal, I pay tribute to the politicians who have put politics on the path of freedom and elections. I wish them success!
