Two decades have passed, but Mea Chron still stands by Pol Pot. Most days he also stands by the mass murderer’s cremation site, keeping guard in the Khmer Rouge’s last stronghold of Anlong Veng.
The number of women in the Cambodian judicial system remains stubbornly low, new statistics compiled by the Cambodian National Council for Women show, with the detrimental effects of that imbalance felt throughout the court system.
The town of Longvek, in Kampong Tralach district, is picturesque but unremarkable. Cows graze between rice paddies and stilted wooden homes dot the landscape.
Klien Savoeun’s hand absent-mindedly drifts to her stomach as she sits on a bamboo platform in her Sa’ang district home. Her lightly-freckled face breaks into a smile when asked if her incoming child is kicking.
Life was quiet at first in the Kandal Stung village where Uong Sim and her husband settled more than 20 years ago.
When Kem Ley was gunned down in broad daylight more than a year and a half ago, it sparked the Kingdom’s largest outpouring of grief since the death of King Father Norodom Sihanouk, the architect of Cambodia’s independence.
When Heng Ny laughs, hundreds of lines run across his face. Sitting in front of his simple house with cats and chickens at his feet, discussing his relationship is what brings out a smile.
Sitting on the white tile floor in his home on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, 29-year-old Yan Muon switched back and forth between Khmer and English as he remembered four years spent working at an electronics factory in Malaysia.
In her wedding photo, Pen Chan Sreykuoch smiles at the camera, wearing lolly-pink lipstick and her hair swept back, large blue jewels glittering at her neck.
Thirteen years ago, two men came to Eng Pov’s village in Tbong Khmum province and knocked on her door. Pov, then either 20 or 21, doesn’t remember their names. All she remembers is their offer: to work as a maid in Saudi Arabia for $180 a month, with kind employers, food to eat, clothes to wear and