We landed in Phnom Penh in the early evening, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the city as we rode down the highway in a tuk-tuk. After dropping our backpacks off at our hostel, we ventured out into the city on foot to explore the neighborhood around us. As we were walking down a market street where vendors were just beginning to close up for the evening, the sky opened up on us. We had gotten used to the daily afternoon showers back in Chiang Mai, but this storm was a torrential downpour of water that would have instantly drenched us had we not found shelter underneath a nearby food stall’s tarp roof. 

Within a few minutes, however, the storm faded to a light rain, and we continued on down the road, unexpectedly ending up at Friends the Restaurant – an institution that I had read about when searching for places not to miss in Phnom Penh. Friends International is a social enterprise with over twenty different businesses scattered throughout Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia whose model emphasizes social sustainability by directly involving (through employment in their stores and restaurants) the individuals whose lives they seek to improve. After looking around the store filled with funky handmade items (including up-cycled bicycle tire purses, re-usable shopping bags, and wallets made from recycled local newspapers) and eating a delicious dinner at the restaurant, we headed back to our hostel to sleep after a long day of traveling. 

The steely skies and misty drizzle set the tone for our next day, which started out with a visit to the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, also known as S-21. Formerly a high school, the building was converted into one of the 150-200 security prisons used by the Khmer Rouge during their regime from 1976 to 1979. During this time, an estimated 20,000 prisoners were interrogated and tortured here; of these individuals, there were twelve confirmed survivors. 

As we made our way through the grounds, we listened to an audio guide describing what we were seeing. There are few words that can even begin to describe the heartache that one feels while looking at the hundreds upon hundreds of photos of victims, the crumbling brick holding cells inside rooms that were once filled with desks and books, and listening to the first-hand stories being read to us as we walked. 

In the afternoon, we ventured out of the city through rice paddies and semi-rural villages to the Choeung Ek Genocidal Center. Before being turned into one of the Khmer Rouge’s largest mass grave sites where nearly 9,000 bodies have been found, the area was an orchard where a nearby Chinese village buried their deceased. As we walked through the fields and trees, we were again guided by the voices of witnesses telling their stories and describing what happened where we were standing. Below the surface of quiet peace and natural beauty is a deep sadness for the needless loss that happened here just four decades ago. 

To get a sense of Cambodia’s current state – and to understand the wonder of Angkor Wat, its headless Buddha figures, and the fact that it is still standing – one must have an awareness of the country’s recent past. People in rural areas and those who have returned to the cities have lived through this horrific period of time, and today’s rapid re-development of cities like Phnom Penh bears witness to the fact that Cambodia is in a state of recovery and transformation following this dark period of time. 

Loung Ung, a human rights activist and the author of "First They Killed My Father," escaped Cambodia at the age of ten during the Khmer Rouge’s regime. She says, “The Angkar has taught me to hate so deeply that I now know I have the power to destroy and kill.” Both victims and survivors express similar sentiments of rage, of brokenness, and of sorrow – but also of hope. To forget these atrocities means that they will continue to be repeated, and without a glimmer of hope for the future, we as humanity will remain divided. 

The Royal Project is a non-profit organization founded in 1969 by the late King Bhumibol Adulyadej with the driving purpose of replacing the opium poppies grown by highland ethnic minority groups with organically-grown fruit, vegetable, and cash crops. We learned that the produce grown at this particular site makes its way to consumers all over Asia and even to Europe due to the quality of the food. While the people growing it receive neither the lowest nor the highest price for the crops, the return on their efforts remains relatively stable from year to year. After a brief tour of the Royal Project site, we continued on to the Mae Sa Mai village. 

We made our way up to the learning center where some of us spent the night and received a warm welcome from Win and “Uncle Chai,” our gregarious guides who are villagers of Mae Sa Mai. After giving us a run-down of our itinerary for the rest of the day, we divided ourselves into two groups for a hike: either agricultural or forest. I chose to be in the latter group, and after lathering up with insect repellent, we began our trek through the woods. We immediately left behind the concrete roads and napping dogs of the village as we made our way up the hillsides and into the trees on the vine-covered path. 

For the first half-hour of our walk, Uncle Chai stopped every few minutes to point out a new plant and its culinary and/or medicinal uses. From clearing up pink eye to helping pass kidney stones, there was a remedy for nearly everything. We soon reached the highest point of the hill that we were climbing and gathered around a small table strewn with burned incense sticks fenced in by barbed wire. There, Uncle Chai conveyed to us the importance of the site, including the story of a sacred tree. Every year, villagers make the trek up to the spot to pray for merit, a baby, good health, etc., then return later that year to thank the spirits for granting them what they asked for. 

We soon stopped to eat our lunch of khao pad (fried rice) in a bamboo grove where our guides brought us bananas hacked off from a nearby tree. Before we started eating, Uncle Chai recited a phrase and made an offering to the spirits, explaining that he was telling them why we were here in the forest and that we wished no trouble. We soon trekked on through the woods, stopping again at a grove of gnarled trees whose canopies formed an archway over the trail. 

From the back of the group, I could not hear what Uncle Chai was telling us about the trees, but I soon found out the hard way: in these trees, leeches lie in wait on the branches until animals and people walk by, then drop down and attach themselves to the unsuspecting passersby. As we walked through the trees, I felt what I thought was a drop of water on my stomach, then looked down to find a large black leech twisting around. Others in our group had several on their socks and shoulders, and we hurried along in hopes of leaving the leech grove behind. 

The rest of our trek was downhill as we followed a dirt track used by villagers to access the coffee plants and banana trees surrounding the community. As we approached the village, Uncle Chai pointed out one last plant, which was a wild tomato whose deep orangey-red insides and abundant seeds are the only edible parts. 

I spent the afternoon walking around the village with friends, passing women embroidering cloth, families sitting outside their homes, and several groups of young children playing in the street. We made our way through the steep, winding streets on both sides of the village, passing three Christian churches along the way. As we walked back to the learning center for dinner, we stopped to watch the sun set over the village, casting a warm glow over the valley. 

For dinner, we were served a delicious spread of rice, sautéed Chinese cabbage, soybean crumbles, stir-fried pork, and bananas. We then gathered around a fire (which was welcome given the cool night air) as Win told us more about the village and the impact that the Royal Project has had on the Hmong people of Mae Sa Mai. 

The people here stopped growing opium poppies about thirty-five years ago – “people born after that time, when they open their eyes, they see only green trees on the hillsides,” said Win. He then explained that every villager has an agriculture-related occupation, and one-hundred percent of the people living there have Thai citizenship. The evening concluded with a performance showcasing the dances and music of the villagers, and we headed to bed after our long day of traveling and trekking. 

I woke up to the crowing and cackling of roosters around 5:30 AM and watched as the sun crept above the hillside and cast its rosy light on the foggy valley. Before breakfast, I chatted briefly with our professor, a Netherlands native who has been living and leading tours in Thailand for several decades, about his perspective on the development of ethnic minority groups as a result of the Royal Project. He echoed Win’s sentiment that it has brought many communities out of poverty, but that there are downsides to it as well. 

By having the government step in – even if it is allowed or invited by the community – this integration into Thai society has been accompanied by a loss of culture and heritage for these groups. At this point in time, he explained, the government is beginning to recognize that this is a great loss for Thailand as a whole, and that minority groups should be encouraged to retain and celebrate their culture. Hopefully it is not too late to communicate this to groups whose ways of life have been so drastically altered within the past several decades. 

After breakfast, we regrouped and gathered in the village shaman’s house where one of our classmates whose family is Hmong translated his words for our group. Together, they explained for us how one becomes a shaman and what role the shaman plays as a member of the community. We then followed Uncle Chai through the community as he pointed out more herbs and plants, and we stopped to look inside one family’s home. The windowless, smoky, dirt-floored home was the village’s last remaining traditional house, complete with an anthill symbolizing good fortune for the family living there. After having lunch back at the learning center, it was time to say goodbye and thank our hosts for their generosity. 

Our trip concluded with a stop at the nearby Forest Restoration Research Unit (FORRU) site located on the way back to Chiang Mai. There, we first planted various types of seeds in starter trays that would then grow into seedlings for transplanting. We then planted seedlings that were four to five inches tall in bags filled with dirt and compost, making sure to handle the delicate plants with care. We worked swiftly as a team, and in a short amount of time, we had made the seedlings ready for the next step in their journey towards becoming trees. We were told that the types of trees and plants being used to reforest the land are mainly species that are native to the country and region. 

Ending the weekend with the FORRU activity was quite fitting, as the overall experience of visiting Mae Sa Mai has ‘planted a seed’ in my mind with regard to learning about ethnic minority communities and how they have been changed by government projects. I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend this time in the village surrounded by so many kind, welcoming individuals; to bring foreign strangers into your own space is an incredibly selfless gesture. While I know that it does not equal the generosity that we were shown this weekend, I hope that I can share this knowledge and these new perspectives with others in ways that will allow me to give back to the communities from which I have learned. 

While humans may be creatures of habit, the time that I spend immersed in nature makes me realize that we, like other beings, are also adaptable to change. I believe that creating and preserving the spaces that evoke environmental consciousness is what will inspire us to live sustainably. ​