The Stampede

As most of you probably already know, there was a terrible tragedy in Phnom Penh earlier this week, leaving almost 400 victims dead. A stampede broke out on a suspension bridge during Water Festival Monday night, which draws in millions of people to the city to watch boat races and celebrate the end of rainy season. There is a lot of speculation about the cause of the stampede, but from what I've gathered, the hundreds of people on the bridge (who gathered to watch a concert) were spooked after a cannon trying to disperse people from the bridge was fired, causing pandemonium to ensue. People swept up in the mass exodus were trampled, suffocated, electrocuted or drowned after falling into the water below.

Many of the people who go into the city to partake in Water Festival are from the more rural parts of Cambodia. It's the one time of the year they look forward to going into "the big city" and enjoying the many festivities of Water Festival. A city of over 1 million becomes jampacked with more than 4 million people. It was for this reason that I chose not to go to Phnom Penh for the weekend, as most other volunteers decided as well. That many people crowded in such a small space and something bad is bound to happen; but who would think it'd be a stampede?

Cambodia has a population of about 15 million people, less than twice that of NYC. It seems that everyone in this country is connected to everyone else through someone; most families have lots of kids, some of whom end up moving away to far off provinces, broadening the family's circle of friends/acquaintances. I found out that 30 people from my little province of Svay Rieng were killed in the stampede, and my host mother knew (very indirectly) someone from a different province that died. The theory of "six degrees of separation" seems more like two degrees here, so with 400 people passing, it seems like everyone I've talked to knows someone (indirectly) who was affected by this tragedy. Last night, most Cambodians put out offerings outside their house and lit candles for the ghosts of the victims who passed. The incident has been all over the news, and unlike other places where privacy rights prevail, Cambodian t.v. doesn't hide any bloody details. Faces of mangled bodies and loved ones trying to identify them are shown all over the news.

It has been interesting to observe Cambodians and their reactions during this time. Some are sad, but far more make jokes or laugh when talking about the incident. I guess one might call this "their own way" of dealing with things, but part of me can't help but think it stems from their inability to deal with tragedy, a vestige from the Kmai Rouge era. If you read about some of the horrendous things that occurred during the Kmai Rouge genocide, you are left thinking that everyone who survived has got to be dealing with some serious psychological issues; how could they not be to some extent? The people who survived, who are now parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, are raising the newer generation and passing on their own coping strategies to their children, coping strategies which may employ laughter, denial and/or any other ways to avoid the real issue. I cannot ascertain that my theory is correct because I do not know how Cambodians dealt with grief in the pre-Kmai Rouge era, but it is something that I am continually trying to learn more about. Certain things can be chalked up to cultural differences but something tells me that laughing upon hearing someone was suffocated to death does not fall under this category.

The Cambodian government is paying the families of the victims $1500 per victim. As my mom tells me, "if you had a lot of family members die, you'd make a lot of money." Um, is it me or is that statement extremely dysfunctional? Like I said, there are some serious issues that need to be looked into. And PM Hun Sen- thanks for putting a price tag of $1500 on a human life.

Some pics from the NY Times of the aftermath of the tragedy:

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/11/23/world/CAMBODIA.html