«
<
>
We travelled hundreds of kilometers, jet-lagged, my aching head banging against the frame of an old jeep as it rattled along dry bumpy roads waiting for the monsoon to fill their holes. The day before we had already visited an urban refugee camp hosting communities displaced by speculative infrastructure projects.
It took a while to grasp that these desolate landscapes had been lush forests only few years earlier. Now, hectare after hectare of flattened land stretched before us, punctuated by rows of oil palm saplings. What remained of the forest community welcomed us in the shade of a wooden shelter. The heat climbed above 40 degrees as children returned home from school, with their uniforms coated in dust.
A land rights activist shared photographs documenting their resistance: images of community members standing unarmed in front of bulldozers, as their agricultural lands and forests sustaining their livelihoods were being cleared to make way for monoculture plantations. Two siblings lingered nearby, curious to hear the stories behind those animated images of struggle.
In Cambodia I encountered the tropical stillness and melancholic energy of a wounded country. Yet amid the traces of violence, resistance, and poverty, life continued: children played, families gathered, the rhythms of daily life endured. Much of what mattered was not explained, but felt. As Tiziano Terzani wrote in Fantasmi: “Capire serve, ma la cosa fondamentale è sentire.” Understanding matters, but the essential thing is to feel.
[2012]
Cambodia, melancholic energy
We travelled hundreds of kilometers, jet-lagged, my aching head banging against the frame of an old jeep as it rattled along dry bumpy roads waiting for the monsoon to fill their holes. The day before we had already visited an urban refugee camp hosting communities displaced by speculative infrastructure projects.
It took a while to grasp that these desolate landscapes had been lush forests only few years earlier. Now, hectare after hectare of flattened land stretched before us, punctuated by rows of oil palm saplings. What remained of the forest community welcomed us in the shade of a wooden shelter. The heat climbed above 40 degrees as children returned home from school, with their uniforms coated in dust.
A land rights activist shared photographs documenting their resistance: images of community members standing unarmed in front of bulldozers, as their agricultural lands and forests sustaining their livelihoods were being cleared to make way for monoculture plantations. Two siblings lingered nearby, curious to hear the stories behind those animated images of struggle.
In Cambodia I encountered the tropical stillness and melancholic energy of a wounded country. Yet amid the traces of violence, resistance, and poverty, life continued: children played, families gathered, the rhythms of daily life endured. Much of what mattered was not explained, but felt. As Tiziano Terzani wrote in Fantasmi: “Capire serve, ma la cosa fondamentale è sentire.” Understanding matters, but the essential thing is to feel.
[2012]
