After detailing what a fantastically fun time I had at the Loi Krathong Festival in Bangkok last week, I’d now like to take a moment to acknowledge those who lost their lives that night in the country next door.
Nearly 400 people were killed during a bridge stampede while celebrating a similar festival in Phnom Penh – a tragedy that the officials are calling the most devastating loss of life in Cambodia since the Khmer Rouge (which I mention in this post about the book, “First They Killed My Father”).
I don’t know what types of images you all are seeing in the media in your respective countries, but the Asian media doesn’t censor much when it comes to dead and near-dead bodies. It’s awful.
It was only 31 years ago that the Cambodians were freed of the Khmer Rouge terrors. And it’s not impossible for someone who lost their brother during that time to have lost a child this week on that bridge. I’ve been to Cambodia twice this year and have seen how much these people have suffered, and how much they still suffer today. Truly, truly heart-wrenching.
When will they ever catch a break?
My heart aches for you Cambodia.