1. From Battlefield to Exhibition

        Visiting Angkor Wat in Cambodia, I made a detour to the Siem Reap Private Landmine Museum. The museum itself is a former battlefield, situated by a small river, with trenches crisscrossing the grounds. Inside, Akira, the museum's founder, displays a collection of landmines, grenades, and firearms he unearthed during his demining efforts.

      “I personally cleared the landmines in this village," Akira explained. "Only after that did the villagers start moving back. The museum opened in October 1999."

      Akira is just a nickname, even he doesn't know his real name. People started calling him Akira because his motorbike was a Japanese brand, Akira. He has many names. His aunt calls him Enyan, meaning "a good machine." In school, his teacher called him Lak, meaning "giant," because he cried so loudly, like a giant. Some people simply call him Noh, which means "cry." As a child, he cried when he was hungry, cried when he didn't eat enough, and cried when the food wasn't good.

2. A Deminer's Story

        At the age of 12, in 1985, Akira was trained to lay landmines for the Khmer Rouge. In 1989, at the age of 17, he was captured by the Vietnamese army. After undergoing indoctrination, he became a member of the Vietnamese army's vanguard. He said, "The Vietnamese army was clever. They killed the old and weak, but they used young Cambodians like me to guide them, to scout for Khmer Rouge positions and landmines."

      In 1990, he became a soldier for Hun Sen. In 1993, United Nations officials arrived in Cambodia to oversee the national elections. Under the UN's arrangement, he joined the demining effort. He proudly claimed that using traditional methods, he could clear 50 to 100 landmines a day. Demining teams from Europe and America, relying on advanced technology and equipment, could only clear 2 or 3 landmines a day, a much slower pace.

        How did he learn to demine?

       “It's like cooking," Akira replied. "You do it every day, and you learn."

      It is estimated that 10 million landmines are buried beneath Cambodian soil, with 6 million still waiting to be cleared. The number of landmines is almost half the current Cambodian population of 12 million. Akira, now 26, says, "Wherever there are landmines, that's where I go."

3. A Demining Invitation

      Growing up amidst the horrors of war, what feelings does Akira hold for his former comrades?

      He said that sometimes he encounters friends or enemies from the battlefield. Even his enemies, he invites to his home for a visit. He wants to let the past be the past. He hopes everyone will work hard to bring prosperity to the country.

      I didn't want our conversation to end on a note of bitter memories, so I subtly steered him towards sharing a happy childhood memory.

      Akira responded resolutely, "I don't know what you're talking about. You know, my mother died when I was 5 years old. From hunger. She was given two bowls of thin porridge every day by the Khmer Rouge. But she was still hungry, so she dug up banana tree roots to eat. Then she got sick and couldn't recover. My father died soon after, overworked and exhausted. I was then sent to a commune and raised by a group of old women."

       The museum also displays a collection of "souvenirs" from the Pol Pot era: the bright red flag, money, black uniforms, red checkered head scarves, and shoes made from old tires of the Khmer Rouge regime. These "souvenirs" still carry the stench of war, evoking feelings of unease, heaviness, and despair. I wonder who would buy these “souvenirs"?

      As we parted, I shook Akira's hand. He looked at me with his bright, piercing eyes and casually threw out an invitation: "When you have time, come with me to clear landmines."