What follows is a draft of an "After word" to the next edition of Cambodian Interlude. (The publisher, by the way, has promised that the next edition will have proper pictures and that he will call the book by its original title, Cambodia and the Year of UNTAC.)

When I left Cambodia in August of 1993, I was a 40-year-old United Nations Volunteer who had just spent 18 months in a country that was, as far as I could tell, still at war. After I left Cambodia, the war ended with the gradual collapse of the Khmer Rouge, but Cambodia’s other problems were just beginning. With peace and a new government, whose election I was partially responsible for, the “legal government” cut down enough trees to permanently alter the country’s climate; the population exploded; and the government was, everyone believed, corrupt. Recently millions of dollars have turned up in bank accounts in Singapore and people keep getting murdered for trying to challenge the corruption. The most popular actress in Cambodia was even murdered, everyone thinks, by the Prime Minister's wife! The First Lady helped engineer the killing of Piseth Pilika after she realized that her husband was having an affair with her. Everyone I met when I returned to Cambodia in November of 2002 was filled with despair. How could there ever be any hope, they told me —elections were coming up, but the government would rig them.

But some things, as far as I could tell, have gotten better. At least now the fancier restaurants are filled with Cambodians instead of United Nations officials. And now there are hundreds of more restaurants—the Cambodian middle class is again alive and well. Indeed, four of the five old Cambodian friends I met now have cars, cell phones, and what we in the West call “disposable income.” None of them dreamed ten years ago that they would ever have such riches.

The country had changed so much that I hadn’t recognized a thing. To begin with, the airport has been totally re-modeled. Now it is world-class and air-conditioned. (When I left Cambodia in '93 the airport official had literally dragged my backpack to the plane—and in the process put a large hole in it!) On the way into town I didn't see one of the once-familiar ox-carts or pony-carts. But I saw a lot of sports utility vehicles, new cars, and motorcycles on roads that were now decently paved and lined with shade trees, and buildings that looked well maintained. Driving into town, one would hardly guess that this was still one of poorest countries in the world.

Unbelievable (to anyone who was in Cambodia during the United Nations 3-billion dollar election in 1993) but true, there are now about ten traffic lights in Phnom Penh and, just as incredibly, the people stop at them.

Nevertheless, off the main roads, the side streets are still, on the whole, pot-holed messes filled with bicycles, motorcycles, cars, pedicabs, and the occasional pedestrian. These days at night you no longer see hordes of people sleeping along the main streets, although the city is still crowded and still poor. One night as an old friend was driving me home she pointed out the street lights that now line some of the main streets. "See," she said, "aren't they beautiful?"

On all the streets, there is still a huge over-supply of motorcycle taxi drivers. In Bangkok, where I’ve lived for the last three years, the motorcycle taxi drivers wear uniforms and usually they can’t stop and pick you up. You have to signal them and then they signal the man whose turn it is to take the next customer. In Cambodia, it’s every motorcycle taxi driver for himself. A few of them seem to have reserved parking places in front of certain businesses or hotels, but most simply seem to drive endlessly around. In Thailand the car-taxis drive endlessly around while in Cambodia the car-taxis are just for tourists.

To get around the city I usually walked. This amazed the Cambodians. As I walked, the motorcycle taxi drivers would, every few meters, ask me if I wanted a ride. Once I told one of them, "I'm walking, thank you."

"In Cambodia," he said truthfully and in the fluent English that at least some of them have learned in the last ten years, "nobody walks."

Nobody walks, so you’ll still see the pedicabs or motorcycle taxi drivers carrying a virtually unlimited number of people or goods along the pot-holed side streets and the manicured main streets of Phnom Penh. Nobody walks, although these days you will see a fair number of joggers and aerobic dancers in the parks in the early morning.

Walking in the city isn’t easy, but usually I enjoyed it. There are now far fewer beggars than there were ten years ago. Generally, anyone who isn’t a motorcycle taxi driver ignores you. There are too many tourists for the average Cambodian to be bothered with another strange face on the street.

Along the side streets residents still live half in the house and half on the street. Beside the road you’ll see people washing their clothes, drying rice, and occasionally bathing. Once at 8:30 at night I saw a pedicab driver and his wife or girlfriend having sex on the sidewalk. It was a hurried and very lustful, missionary-position copulation. Usually, though, things weren't that dramatic. Usually as I walked the streets I saw children playing; knee-high roadside restaurant tables filled with people eating noodles; pedicab and motorcycle taxi drivers (and their women) playing cards; beggars; and lots of people who had little or nothing to do.

When I was there I met Sovan, the heroine of Cambodian Interlude. She now has a master’s degree in management, is in the upper 5% of Cambodian incomes, has a nice car, a house, the works. She is still single, but a master’s degree has given her a lot more confidence. She says that her marital status may soon change.

My marital status has stayed the same as well. After I left Cambodia in '93, I stayed in Thailand for two years to write Cambodian Interlude. In 1995 I began a course in desktop publishing in Eugene, Oregon. My nearest neighbors, in my apartment building in Eugene were, of all things, heroin-addicted prostitutes. I got to know them and wrote a book about them, but no one wanted to publish it.

In 1996 I went back to Hawaii, the place I had obtained my MA. There I taught computer applications to university students until late 1999 when I came back to Southeast Asia. Here I've made home pages and movies for non-governmental organizations. (see the FAQ section of my home page if that interests you.)

Looking at the pictures, you'll find more about how Cambodian has changed since our UNTAC days.

-- TR, Bangkok, January 2003

Top of page.