Reflections on Community Meetings in Sihanoukville and Koh Kong

An hour outside of the city limits, past the Special Economic Zones, past the genocide tribunals, and even past the constructions sites that boast of 52-sky scrapers, there is another Cambodia. A Cambodia that is filled with luscious green rice paddy fields, wooden houses resting on long stilts, and unpaved roads. Another Cambodia which I was fortunate enough to experience as I journeyed with several housing rights activists as they made their monthly meetings to various communities, either immediately threatened by land evictions or organizing to prevent forced resettlement in the near future.

We arrived in the rural commune of Cheko Leu, located within the Koh Kong province, first greeted by a few community members. Yet in half an hour’s time, a few friendly faces turned into forty-two, the majority of which, surprisingly enough, were women. Although the meeting was all in Khmer, I got the sensation that true grassroots efforts were being constructed and I sat back on the cool tile floor, attempting to take it all in, as I frantically tried to capture the key points that were translated in English.

I think what resonated most with me at the meeting of five villages was the grassroots approach that COHRE and other housing rights affiliates had taken in their attempts to address forced evictions. This wasn’t a matter of the all too familiar pattern that many international non-governmental organizations take: “we will give you money and tell you how to spend that money.” Instead, COHRE and others haves stressed the importance of taking a backseat role – COHRE has been committed to providing background research, providing necessary tools and information – in community organizing campaigns. Housing rights activists half-joked that the village organizers were ultimately the drivers in the car, and they saw themselves as the “helpers along the road,” giving encouragement and support as needed: an all too true and clever analogy.

Though the land of these villagers—the rightful owners—has been taken away, and what remains continues to be at risk of being taken, they remain hopeful that their land will be returned to them. While visiting the community, we listened to the report-backs of their journey to Phnom Penh to the Prime Minister’s house, who they earnestly hope will do something to remedy the situation.

This persistence of the community amazes me. “If there is no response to our letter [which they wrote to the Prime Minister, asking for support] then we will return to Phnom Penh.” Indeed they will. As I write this, this community, along with many other communities facing evictions from provinces throughout Cambodia, is coming to the capital in a demonstration of their basic human rights. For the next few days, housing rights activists will be marching to the United Nations with petitions calling on Prime Minister Hun Sen to address their demands.

All of this I find extremely overwhelming. I am very much in awe of these human rights activists and community leaders, but it is not until I ride back from our first meeting in Koh Kong to our second and third community meetings in Sihanoukville, that I understand precisely why. Reflecting with a COHRE housing rights activist, I understand that while these mobilizations are enthralling, they are first and foremost, out of necessity. I think that is what makes me respect their efforts the most. This is not about glamour or recognition. It’s about being in pursuit of the most fundamental rights: the right to a home, which as been systematically denied to thousands of people throughout the country, most often in the name of “development.” Whose development? I’m not exactly sure. In this case, the revolution will probably not be televised, nor will it be screen printed. But it does exist and it is a very important one.