‘Life is cheap’ is not just a cliché from old westerns

Thursday

Leaving home after lunch today to head back to the office, I notice a large crowd of maybe 100 students standing in the middle of the road outside the Khmer school just up from my flat.

Weaving my way through them, along with a few other motos, I manage to get past into the main road.

In the thick of it all, I now see several police officers taping off a section of pavement. There on the pavement, next to a pink concrete bench, was the body of a young man; possibly late teens, or early twenties.

The pool of not yet congealed blood was covering over two feet of pavement.

The bullet hole in the centre of his chest looked pitch black against the white of his school shirt; contrasting starkly with the red of the blood soaked pavement.

My exit route temporarily blocked, by gawpers and shocked schoolmates, I ask the police officer standing next to me what happened.

"he no want thief take moto, thief shoot him"

All for a second-hand Suzuki Viva.

17:00 - evening
Driving home from the office I again pass the crime scene. However, now, a mere 3 hours later, the police tape has gone, the body has gone, the blood has gone.
It could almost have been like it never happened.


Friday

Driving out of the flat this morning on the way to work I pass the scene of yesterday’s incident, 25 yards from my home.

This morning a bowl of bananas has been left on the spot, along with some incense sticks. [Traditional Buddhist thing...]

There are also several dozen small pieces of paper – 4x6 – tucked under the bowl or just laying on the pavement, each piece has something written in Khmer script on it, each in a different hand.

A few teenage students are hanging around, not talking and just looking.