Of Dhammacārinī and Rematriation in Post-Genocidal Cambodia

Abstract

The literature over the last three decades has been trying to account for the stories of resilience by Cambodians both in their homeland and diasporas through performance and literature, visual culture, and religion to undo the legacy of displacement and traumatic experience of the Cambodians during 1975–1979, known as the Khmer Rouge Genocidal period. The repatriation of Khmer refugees to their homeland during 1992–1993 poses a question of to what extent the physical return could replenish the richness of people’s lives deprived by war-time atrocities. Dhammayietra (peace march; 1992–2018) originated by and centered around the spiritual leadership of late Maha Ghosananda has, being an exemplar, tackled this challenge. Yet, are there any significant moral contributions and ethical leadership from other sources? This paper therefore seeks to highlight the under-recognized stories of ‘Dhammacārinī’ (Buddhist Woman Leader) of Cambodia in the light of the spirituality that emerged in the post-conflict reconstruction. Based on my ethnographic accounts and engagement with Dhammayietra (2009–2018), archival research and biographical and dharma books published by the two dhammacārinīs of Cambodia, I argue that these Buddhist woman leaders attempt to offer the people of Cambodia ‘rematriation’, where the ethics of care, nurture, interconnectedness and healing join forces to counter the legacy of devastation and desperation.

1. Devastated Vision and the Sight of Hope

A darkness will settle on the People of Cambodia.

There will be houses but no people in them.

Roads but no travelers upon them.

The land will be ruled by barbarians with no religion.

Blood will run so deep as to touch the belly of the elephant.

Only the deaf and the mute will survive.

——Buddh Damneay1

This vision from a Buddhist prophecy believed to be composed and circulated at a certain point in the glorious past of Cambodia became real during 1975–1979 in Cambodia2 when, as a leading Buddhist woman of Cambodia, Chea Vannath (Appendix A), points out, “A house is not a house. A city is not a city. The entire country is a killing field”. Approximately over 1.7 million people died from starvation, harsh labor, diseases and political execution. Displacement, the disintegration of family and its conundrum continues. They manifest themselves in refugee camps along Thai–Cambodian border over a decade (1979–1991), lasting civil war (1992–1999) and most notably in a Khmer concept of ‘baksbat’ or ‘broken body or form’ (Ly 2020b, p. 10) as a represented image of personhood charged with trauma—shared by Cambodians several decades later in the present.

This devastated vision is palpably clear in the artistic and filmic representation of a female broken body, as a prominent Khmer art historian Ly (2020b, p. 125) further suggests that “resilient scarred female body began to resume her iconic role in the post-genocide Cambodia, not simply as a giver of birth, but as a female subject who is unfortunately burdened with scars of war. She mourns her dead children, and now she is also laden with the responsibility of keeping her surviving dispersed family members in the homeland and in the diaspora alive”.

This burden of war memory and everyday survival on women’s shoulders leads a celebrated Khmer filmmaker, Rithy Panh, to present a typical but mirror image of the Khmer women after the war as a “mad mother” resulting from ineffable distress (Ly 2021) and as a “dutiful daughter, broken woman” who unwillingly became a sex worker to pay the debt of gratitude to her desperate, impoverished family (Derks 2008, pp. 170–97). This is resonated with the main character of a Rithy Panh’s Realist film, “Un soir après la guerre One Evening After the War)”, portraying the precarious conditions and the dilemmas Cambodian women face in the time of the country’s resettlement.

Against this backdrop of visible atrocities scarred specifically on the Khmer female body, the second part of the Buddhist prophecy, however, reveals a glimpse of hope:

The world with all its greed and injustice and bloodshed appears as a devil’s world.

But blood can be turned into milk and greed into compassion

and the devil’s land becomes a Buddha land;

a land of perfect peace where there is no greed, no anger,

no ignorance, nor suffering and no darkness.

There is only the Light of Wisdom and the Rain of Compassion.3

Contrasting with the vision of resilience the prophecy illustrates, in recent years, a few have tried to shed light on the peace initiatives Cambodians have contributed to the world even in the wake of their trauma. Cambodia in the 20th–21st century is, however, better known to academia and the world for two major reasons: her grandeur of the Angkor civilization in a distant past and the atrocities of genocide in the present. This resulted in the huge scholarship of archaeology and art history uncovering the mystery of amazing built environments (Cœdès 1963; Wales 1965; Groslier 1966; Giteau 1974; Freeman 1990; Edwards 2007; Falser 2020). On the other hand, several scholars have labored to unpack the logic and rationale behind the modern tragedy (Ea 2001; Kiernan 2004; Gottesman 2003; Hinton 2004; Ramji and van Schaack 2005; Um 2015; Keo 2018). The dearth of scholarship on resilience continues in its failure to capture the moral contribution by Khmer women who play a crucial role in producing “the Light of Wisdom and the Rain of Compassion”, as the prophecy illuminates us.

This paper thereby seeks to pitch the voice of the devotees of peace in the aftermath of Cambodian genocide by offering the example of legacies of the two leading Buddhist women (Dhammacārinī) who provide their homeland with a sight of hope as the remedy to the damaged vision.

2. Reconfiguration of Spirituality in a War-Torn Society

Despite the scarcity and the lack of attention on resilience literatures, over the last three decades, scholars have been trying to account for the stories of peace initiatives by Cambodians both in their homeland and diasporas through performance and literature (Ebihara et al. 1994), visual culture (Ly 2020b) and religion (Chandler and Kent 2009) to undo the legacy of displacement and traumatic experience of the Cambodians during 1975–1979, known as the Khmer Rouge Genocidal period.

Central to this problematic tragedy, the repatriation of Khmer refugees to their homeland during 1992–1993 poses a question: “to what extent could the physical return replenish the richness of people’s lives deprived by war-time atrocities”? This unsettled condition is shown in Chea Vannath (2016)’s autobiography on her personal exodus and return. Um (2021) further points out: “for many refugees, resettlement has not meant reintegration in the full sense of the term, beyond what is commonly uttered in policy discourse and essentially reduced to employment. Instead, what is engendered by forced migration is a sense of double estrangement—of the alienation that comes from the physical and psychical deracination from home and land, and the alienation of non-belonging and incompleteness in the place of resettlement (Um 2021, pp. 51–52)”.

Dhammayietra (walk for dharma/peace march; 1992–2018) has, being an exemplary case, tackled this challenge. This performative, ritualistic enactment of ‘voluntary displacement’ (Kittisenee 2011) originated from the spiritual leadership of the late Maha Ghosananda, the “Gandhi of Cambodia” (Skidmore 1996; Poethig 2002; Kittisenee 2011). In accordance with Guthrie and Marston’s (2006) work, the religious revivalist movements in Cambodia and Harris’ (2005) work history of Buddhism also play an important role in documenting the recovery of spirituality in the aftermath of genocide. Yet, are there any significant moral contributions and ethical leadership from other sources in addition to the construction of temples both in the homeland and diaspora, the reordination of monks, the reconfiguration of the Sangha (ecclesiastical order) and the reinvented tradition?

The recovery of spirituality in the aftermath of the Cambodian genocide was largely involved with men, while little attention was paid to women. Was the moment after genocide only defined by a representational image of women survivors as shattered, wounded (Ly 2020b) and mad (Ly 2021)? Are there any alternative female spiritual figures outside the confines of the kitchen as usually perceived in the traditional Cambodian gender role of women (Ly 2020a, p. 50)? This paper therefore aims to excavate the under-recognized stories of ‘Dhammacārinī’ (Buddhist Woman Leader) of Cambodia in light of the spirituality that emerged in the post-conflict reconstruction and “resettlement”.

Based on my ethnographic accounts and engagement with Dhammayietra (2009–2018), archival research and biographical and dharma books published by the two dhammacārinīs of Cambodia, I argue that these Buddhist women leaders attempt to offer the people of Cambodia ‘rematriation’, where the ethics of care, nurture, interconnectedness and healing join forces to counter the legacy of devastation and desperation.

3. Dhammacārī, Dhammika and Dhammacārinī

There are several archetypes of caregiver/supporter in the history of Buddhism and in the past of Cambodia. Noteworthy is that the images of leading Buddhist women are often represented. The first, “Dhammacārī”, is a common term defining a Dhamma follower/practitioner or a virtuous Buddhist while Dhammacārī can be both men (Upāsaka) and women (Upāsika). This term can be found in a popular Buddhist verse: “Dhammo have rakkhati dhammacārim (Dhamma will protect the person who practices Dhamma” (Theragāthā 303, Dhammikatthetagāthā).

It should be further noted that the image of women caregivers (Mahā-upāsika, Great-laywoman) and female protectors are prominent throughout Buddhist narratives. After Bodhisattā4 practiced a long period of self-mortification and extreme fasting until the verge of his death, a maiden Sujātā offered the Great Being a golden bowl containing neatly prepared milk rice (Nidāna-Kathā 2002, pp. 92–93). This remarkable care-giving narrative has made Sujātā known among the Buddhists as Mahā-upāsika, Great-laywoman. While, upon reaching full enlightenment, the Bodhisattā was threatened by Mara (Demon) to testify his moral perfection and charity, the Bodhisattā let the solid earth be witness to his past numerous acts of generosity (Nidāna-Kathā 2002, p. 98). This earth testimony scene is usually depicted as a Mother Earth figure who emerged from the ground, proving the meritorious deeds of the Great Being and subsequently subduing the troops of Māra. This female-protector-of-religion image is widely reproduced in Buddhist monasteries of Mainland Southeast Asia, particularly of Cambodia both in the form of mural paintings and statues as reminders of Dhamma Mother, the protector of Buddhism (Thompson 2020, pp. 211–37).

In Khmer history, female Buddhist leaders emerged during critical periods and oversaw social reforms. According to Phimeanakas inscription, Indradevi, the second Queen of Jayavarman VII (1181–1218) played a prominent role as a patron of Mahayana Buddhism in Angkor (Thompson 2016, p.138). She reportedly influenced the warlord King to finally become an iconic model for Bodhisattva5 Lokesvara that is today conceived as the Great Being of Compassion who perceives the cries and suffering of the world. Inspired by this ideal type and influenced by the Queen, Jayavarman VII constructed hospitals across his empire. Even in the post-Angkorian period (14th–18th century), several queens assumed the role of patrons of Theravada Buddhism. Further into the Cold War era, Queen Kossamak in the 1960s not only reigned over Cambodia but supported artistic activities, particularly royal ballet (Hélène Nut and Ly 2020), and performed the role of the moral figure of the nation (Jacobsen 2008, p. 184).

Despite interruption in Khmer history allowing the female moral figures to emerge, the image of the ideal male ruler/leader is persistently dominant:

“According to Cambodian thought, Preah batr Dhammik is a person who upholds the Tenfold Virtues of the Ruler and who has supernatural powers such that enemies cannot harm him. People scrutinize the practice of the ruler closely to see whether he follows the Tenfold Virtues as prescribed by The Buddha”.

(Monychenda 2009, p. 313)

The Dhammika ruler is a cultural concept embedded in Khmer society believing in a messianic leader who will emerge in the wake of the crisis. This concept is not designated as a prophetic movement in response to colonial rule such as the cargo cult among the Native people of North America and the Pacific Islands that links people of different ethnic and linguistic backgrounds (Lepowsky 2004, p. 12) to collectively imagine their indigenous utopia without the European presence (Lepowsky 2004, p. 1). Rather, it resonates with the Turnerian analysis of Theravada Buddhist societies in Mainland Southeast Asia. From the historical perspective, when the countries went into a liminal period of political turmoil, insurgency and socio-economic downturn, the Buddhist millenarian movement will make manifest in several local messianic leaders claiming to be the future Buddha (Maitreya) who will appear to subvert all challenges into the prosperity and sustainable peace (Keyes 1977; Bowie 2014). The Dhammika ruler as a messianic leader will also present himself in the face of catastrophe in Cambodia:

“Ghosananda’s own return to Cambodia through the Dhammayietra inspired a rumor that circulated for several years that Ghosananda was the fulfillment of an old prophesy that after the brutal reign of the thmil (infidels), a “holy man from the west, a light skinned Khmer would appear. A prince would arrive to save his people”.

(Poethig 2002, p. 23)

Maha Ghosananda fits the archetype of the Dhammika ruler while leading hundreds of Khmer refugees to walk across warring terrain in 1992 Cambodia. As recalled by Bob Maat (Appendix A), a key organizer of Dhammayietra and a founding member of the Coalition for Peace and Reconciliation (CPR) in Cambodia, Maha Ghosananda bravely passed through lands filled with landmines and on-going civil war and asked for peace to prevail on his homeland so that the nation will reunite, that the deeply fragmented society will find her way to reconcile her past and conflicts.

Monychenda, a prominent and thought-provoking Buddhist scholar of Cambodia, as well as a former active participant of Dhammayietra, wrote a ground-breaking book in 1991 when he was a monk in the refugee camp along the Thai–Cambodian border (Monychenda 1995). His book, Preah Batr Dhammik (Dhammika Ruler), aimed at reaching out to Cambodian Buddhists both in the homeland and the diasporas. Monychenda continued to maintain his proposed idea in the next decade: “The failure of Cambodians to identify and the interminable wait for the Preah Batr Dhammik to appear, the incomplete preaching of monks on the dhamma for the rulers, and the failures of Cambodia’s rulers have caused Cambodians much suffering. I therefore propose that Cambodians begin to actively cultivate a new Preah Batr Dhammik instead of passively waiting for a Preah Batr Dhammik to appear. It is time that we start to save ourselves before any Preah Batr Dhammik arrives to perform his task”. (Monychenda 2009, p. 314)

The social imagery of the Savior as discussed above, however, tends to present the culture ‘Hero’ (Dhammika/Dhammacārī; literally Dhamma upholder) rather than ‘Shero’ as exemplified by the revivalist and nativist movement among the indigenous people of Southern California where the chief of shaman gained moral authority to enact the myth of returning to Earth (Lepowsky 2004, p. 27). In 2018, at the funeral of late Oddom Van Syvorn (1962–2018), the subsequent leader of Dhammayietra, after the leadership of Maha Ghosananda6, Monychenda took up the microphone in front of the crematorium and lamented:

“When someone ask me:

Who is Mahā Upāsikā (Great Buddhist LayWoman)?

It is Mahā Upāsikā Syvorn.

When asked who epitomizes Khmer women, it is Syvorn.

Ultimately, if asked which title deserves her,

it is Dhammika or Dhammacārinī Syvorn”.

Heng Monychenda (Appendix A)

Here, Monychenda opens a room for the first time with an official recognition (in other words, praising her with a posthumous title7) before the crowd of attendants including Syvorn’s relatives, Buddhist monks, Dhammayietra fellows and me, the cultural possibility for a female prime mover for peace in Cambodia, a fully legitimate female Buddhist leader particularly in the context of post-genocide reconstruction8. Dhammacārinī—invented by Monychenda—is the female version of Dhammika who in herself upholding the virtuous qualification to lead the Buddhist cultural community of Cambodia while at the same time paving the way to be a venue of a model for other lay women to perform this moral duty. This paper therefore takes up this newly emerged cultural framework to look at the two key examples of Dhammacārinī whose missions are to turn the narrative of tragedy into resilience in the context of repatriated and reconstructed Cambodia.

4. Oddom Van Syvorn: A Leaf on Water Surface

Oddom Van Syvorn (1962–2018) finished her autobiography before she passed away in December 2018, but the manuscript went missing at the time she suffered tremendously from her illness. One of her last wishes as shared by some of her close friends was to have me translate her autobiography into English and Thai. Syvorn deliberately selected the title for her book, A Leaf on Water Surface. She reminded me every time we mentioned her book project, “every single word in this book contains truth”. It recounts her life story and her struggles through hurdles during the Khmer Rouge genocidal regime (1975–1979) and her involvement with Dhammayietra from 1992 to 2018. I dedicate this section to Syvorn to fulfill her wish. This section is based on my first contact with her in 2009 and through my participation in the peace walk from 2010–2018. I hope my recollection of experiences about her will convey what she was meant to share.

Syvorn was born in a middle-class family at Sisophon, a provincial area close to the Cambodian–Thai border. As she always reminded me, she was lucky to be born in the time of the Sangkum Reatr Niyom period (1953–1970), the prime time of Cambodia after gaining independence from France, which enabled the country to become fully integrated into modernity as well as the global market economy (Ayres 2000). To the understanding of many Khmers such as Syvorn who were born in and witnessed to the societal atmosphere, the Sangkum period epitomized a utopian vision of society where, as Syvorn (Appendix A) recalled: “In schools, we were taught a quality education. Some people hang their gold necklace at the front door, and it never disappears. There is an abundance of good food. A water jar was placed in front of each house to serve the passers-by who were thirsty”. This memory defines peace and socio-cultural prosperity Syvorn learned from her childhood.

After she earned her primary education and became an early teenager, the country became caught up in the Cold War starting in 1970 when the US-supported General Lon Nol led a Coup d’état against Prince Norodom Sihanouk, the prime minister of the Sangkum period who is remembered as the Father of the Nation. Most of rural Cambodia was carpet-bombed by the American air force aiming to cut off the supply route known as the Ho Chi Minh trail. Sihanouk previously and secretly allowed the VietCong from the Northern Vietnam fraction to bypass certain parts of Khmer territory to fight with the Viet Minh of the South backed by the U.S. Syvorn lamented that her mother’s hometown in Siem Reap had witnessed the damaging effects of cluster bombs flying over several old beautiful wooden houses. Her school time was disrupted by the air sonic that panicked both schoolteachers and students forcing them to hide in the bunkers constructed in each school’s complex as one of the essential infrastructures. Obviously, her former utopian imaginaire was ruined: “My life has been disturbed ever since”.

In April 1979, when the Khmer Rouge defeated the Lon Nol government and turned the country into Year Zero, eradicating all symbols of the old society, cancelling the market economy, schools, banks and temples and banning religious practices and rituals. People in the city were evacuated and taken to labor camps all over the countryside. Syvorn’s father went missing first immediately after the regime came into power. Syvorn, along with her mother and brother, were separated into camps determined by women, men, boy and girl categories. She tried to escape but failed: “I was chained and confiscated in the Buddhist vihara (hall) like an animal as the regime turned this sacred space into a pig house or storehouse. I had no clue why I was locked up here and was treated as if I was not a human”. In the final years of Dhammayietra, several temples in the itinerary were the former place she was confined and saw her fellow prisoners disappearing one by one.

In January 2017, when being asked what kept her alive, “Breath,” she answered. It is the only way to keep oneself busy other than getting angry at the regime or burnt out. She learned meditation from the suffering she experienced: “I was too hungry. Bread lingered in my consciousness and never went away. I concentrated on that loaf of bread, so my hunger was gone, and I calmed down”. Breath observation was also a common part in her daily imprisonment. Contrary to the charismatic Dhammika Ruler/Savior archetype, the journey of this Dhammacārinī started from being a common girl—not endorsed by prophetic prescription—to being a prisoner under the Khmer Rouge Genocidal regime, turning bodily pain into peace. Syvorn was later proclaimed a meditation mentor for monks, nuns and lay people during the peace walk from 1999 to 2018:

Syvorn carries themes of the Dhammayietra in her daily work. She teaches meditation and the Buddhist five precepts to students, older nuns in the temples, midwives and traditional birth attendants, among others. She planted trees in schools to teach the youth the importance of the environment. Preferring to keep a low profile, Syvorn’s work might be quiet. However, relief workers and peace advocates believe that the impact of the peace walks and the role that she plays are very deep, extensive, decisive and impressive. (Appendix A)

The above description is a part of her nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2005. After Maha Ghosananda stepped down from leading the walk in 1999, Syvorn inherited the mission. One initiative Syvorn added to the walk in her time of leadership was to become more engaged with school students: “Syvorn’s vision for the Dhammayietra is to walk on and carry its message of the five precepts to the youth in the countryside. “When I teach old people, they cannot remember. If we teach the young, they will carry the message further,” she explains” (Appendix A).

In Syvorn’s vision, Dhamma should be accessible to everyone: “We need to cater Dhamma in the suitable way for the audience from different walks of life. Five precepts are not too tight while not too loose to observe. When we teach the First Precepts—abstinence from killing—we could also say, do not ‘kill’ the forest too. When we communicate with school kids about the Third Precept—abstinence from sexual misconduct—we can teach them instead how not to fall prey into the vicious cycle of sex trafficking (Syvorn, Appendix A)”. Five precepts were composed into a long poem being handed over to every student, recited in unison loudly and beautifully from the school ground. “When hitting the hook of a term Preah Batr Dhammik (Dhammika Ruler) in the poem, we should ask them: Who is Dhammika ruler? Preah Batr Dhammik does not descend from heavenly realm to save us from harm and terror; everyone can be Preah Batr Dhammik since everybody can be a Dhamma upholder (Syvorn, Appendix A)”.

Syvorn always planned to walk to the remote areas. She contended that people in the urban areas were too busy—it would instead be better to go to the far-reaching periphery of the society where people were overlooked: “I almost gave up several times in serving Dhammayietra since it is a forever tiring mission particularly lots of preparation but as you might have realized by accompanying me to the schools in rural areas, whenever we had eye contact with school kids, we see enthusiasm in what we reached out on five precepts, environmental protection and our promotion on parental love. Only this eye contact reminds me I need to move on. (Syvorn, Appendix A)”.

In the final years of the walk (2016–2018), Syvorn highlighted the importance of nature and Dharma, land and ethics of care. Her moral vision illuminated this interdependence. This is culminated and documented in my personal letter/diary written to Syvorn after her passing. I spent three years after her death attempting to capture what I learned from her, as she was my spiritual mentor, a colleague and a respected sister:

Among million stories to recall, from a decade (2010–2018) of my walk with Dhammayietra (the walk for Dharma) in the spirit of the late Maha Ghosananda, our shared moments from 2016–2018 were the most memorable ones. Under the unbearable sunlight of March each year, we undertook more than one hundred kilometers covering almost all communities along the way, bridging connections between pagodas, schools and people from different backgrounds and generations. In these encounters, we sow a seed of peace everywhere we go, hoping it grows a big—shady tree.

Growing is easy but nurture requires much more energy. When concluding the walk from 2016–2018, we performed the tree ordination at a protected forest in an area of Northwestern Cambodia9. Coming out of wars and poverty, Cambodian people seek to survive through various means. “Do not blame people who cut down the tree,” I recollect your words. “They don’t have enough to eat”. You retained, “We are here not to condemn anyone who destroys the forest, we come to promote loving kindness by an act of ordination for the trees who give us life and protection”.

Similar to Swearer (Swearer 2006). and Susan (Darlington 2012). stories in Thailand, you reminded me that the Buddha was born, enlightened and passed away under the tree. His entire life is embraced by forest. The Enlightened One taught us to follow five precepts. The first one is abstinence from killing. We are encouraged to spare the life of the trees as they too value their lives the same, we do. Cutting down a tree equals to killing a living being, thus considered sinful. It is definitely more sinful cutting down an ‘ordained tree’ as it means harming a monk’s life. I remember well, your clear voice, “Tie the trees neatly with robes, adorned with candles and incense as its offering. We bless it with water and chant sacred verses, hoping the divinities in the forest protect these ordained trees”.

Under the fierce sunlight of March when we usually set out our journeys, we know the real value of the cool shade. Free A/C from nature we do not need to rely on electricity, only if we take good care of the forest. Starting our project in 2016, the following year we came to the same forest. Some were there, some were gone. But some saffron robes remain, evidence of our efforts from the past year. “We know we cannot stop them cutting. But every time we come back; we invite them to join our tree ordination. We ask everyone to collaborate and pay homage to the protected forest”. This small step could not expect the high speed of improvement, but we continue to move, step-by-step.

Eventually in March 2018 we observed more people coming. By word of mouth, community members in a nearby district asked if we could do the same, tree ordination, in their home area. I noticed you were so delighted and agreed to plan for the 2019 tree ordination (Kittisenee, Appendix A)

Syvorn further translated Dharma into ‘mother’s care’. In so doing, she hoped Dhamma would be more accessible to children. She wrote a pictorial book then being distributed to school libraries called Under the Shade of my Parent’s Love. In this book, there are extensive details of the spiritual bonding, love and care between a mother and her kid. Particularly in the post-genocidal Cambodia where trauma from the disintegration of the family was experienced, mistrust was imposed among family members to segregate people into different camps of men, women, boy and girl. Mending this intimate relationship is a must.

A Leaf on Water Surface, her autobiographic manuscript, went missing and so did her last breath, but her legacy remains: “A leaf is always afloat on the water surface. Good actions or meritorious deeds will never get you down”. (Kai Sophea, interview) The interpretation of a Cambodian monk seeing this title intersects with Syvorn’s spiritual journey. Despite all atrocities she faced, her compassion and devoted life to Dharma kept her life afloat. Well-orchestrated with a well-known Buddhist verse defining Dhammacārī, “Dhammo have rakkhati dhammacārim (Dhamma will protects the person who practices Dhamma” (Theragāthā 303, Dhammikatthetagāthā), Syvorn was protected by Dhamma according to the Dhamma she had been upholding. In the next section, I will be discussing another Dhammacārinī of Cambodia in the aftermath of genocide.

5. Chea Vannath: A Cambodian Survivor’s Odyssey

A Cambodian Survivor’s Odyssey is the title of Chea Vannath’s autobiography. The evacuation of people from the city to the camps in April 1975 can be seen as an ‘exodus’. Vannath was one of them. She had gone through similar traumatic experiences as Syvorn did as both were under the Khmer Rouge regime. Vannath was born in 1943 into a well-to-do family of Pursat province. Transitioning her life to the paddy field and harsh labor was therefore a dramatic change. However, she had a glimpse early on of what foreshadowed the later precarious situations:

In the late 1940s, Pursat province was considered unsafe, as there were resistance movements fighting against the French ruling class, led by two groups: (1) “Khmer Issarak” supported by Thailand, and (2) “Khmer Vietminh” supported by North Vietnamese communists. I remember one instance, when grandmother and father woke me up at night and we hid against a concrete wall, listening to the exchange of fire between armed groups.

The railroad track connecting Pursat town and Phnom Penh came under siege from rebels from time to time. My parents often travelled to Phnom Penh to replenish their jewelry stocks. So, whenever the railroad connection was attacked or disturbed, it created a lot of anxiety for the family.

One time, while walking to school and passing through the provincial governor’s office, I saw human heads hanging in branches of a giant banyan tree. My friends and I became frightened and ran away as fast as we could. Whenever there was fighting, the soldiers under the French authorities would cut the heads off the dead rebels, and display them to the public, as a warning not to challenge their rule.

(Vannath 2016, pp. 15–16)

Different from Syvorn, who stayed in the country through the wars and conflict transformation, Vannath went into refugee camps along Thai–Cambodian border and a third country (U.S.) before she returned to her homeland as a humanitarian worker for the United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia (UNTAC), the governing body which paved the way for the first election during 1992 to 1993. Vannath translated those years of working experience into her own project and started her own organization, the Center for Social Development (CSD) from 1996 to 2006.

After the genocide, there was a fear and silence in Cambodia, and no one chose to speak out or narrate their trauma because many perpetrators were still alive. The CSD, under the leadership of Vannath, broke the silence by organizing a public forum across the country, providing a safe space for both victims and perpetrators to meet and talk openly. Vannath (2016, pp. 73–74) points out, “Many westerners perceive Buddhism as a doctrine of acceptance, which effectively hampers social change”. From her view, as evident in this project, the teachings of the Buddha could inspire a social action in this regard, an action to help alleviate people’s fear and trauma. She further explains:

One practical example of this is the ‘Dhamma Yatra’, or annual march, which began in 1992. This Peace March sees thousands of refugees who have been living in camps along the Thai-Cambodian border return to their homeland as the march travels for more than 400 km to Phnom Penh. The spiritual leader of the pilgrimages, Maha Ghosananda, who is nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, also argues that reconciliation “does not mean that we surrender our rights and conditions”, but instead that “we use love and compassion” to address these questions.

I have the opportunity to join the Peace March too. I witnessed the long lines of thousands of monks in bright saffron robes, and people from everywhere sitting down along the road to receive blessings with holy water from Maha Ghosananda and his disciples. Some soldiers and police in uniform jump off their bikes or out of cars and respectfully kneel along the road waiting to be blessed. This image makes me think that despite the appearance of their armed forces uniforms, deep down in their hearts they come to look for peace.

Despite its violence in the ‘killing fields’, the Khmer Rouge failed to abolish Buddhism in Cambodia. Although physically damaged and destroyed, the Wat structures re-emerged at the grass-roots level through survivors armed with Dhamma to lead the healing and rehabilitation of the country.

(Vannath 2016, pp. 74–75)

In consonance with Syvorn, Vannath was inspired by the exemplary peace activism guided under Maha Ghosananda; Vannath sees this model intersecting with her Buddhist upbringing background as she maintains, “Maha Ghosananda teaches that true peacemaking is a balance between wisdom and compassion. Meeting humanitarian needs, dealing with political and other forms of dogmatism, and acting for peace without concession or appeasement requires striking such a balance”. (Vannath 2016, pp. 75–76).

It is never easy to strike such balance. For Vannath, her social services to help society address genocidal trauma with wisdom and compassion require commitment and dedication. She seeks out the way to help genocidal survivors while she, herself, is one of them. Social activism is, at the same time, inner activism. Her civic engagement is indispensable as it is her own healing, as she recalls (Vannath 2016, p. 120), “My childhood scenes of dead soldiers and the suffering of their lamented wives and children; the decapitated heads swinging under the Banyan tree in Pursat province; the dying toddlers abandoned by their care-takers; the starvation and a near-death illness in 1975; and the horrific scene resembling millions of lost souls being released from hell looking for families in 1979 have had a strong impact on me”.

In 2000, when Vannath built her house close to the S-21 detention and torturing center where 15,000 people were first interrogated then taken to the Choeng Ek killing field on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, the workers discovered the remains of unknown victims on the construction site, triggering Vannath’s senses and sensibility. She later invited monks to perform a proper Buddhist funeral for these victims: “Some people believe that the place is haunted. Living near it, I sometimes hear dogs howling, usually at dawn. This is the time people believe the dogs see ghosts. I burn incense and pray for the victims’ lost souls to be liberated, and to be reborn in a better world. This allows me to reconcile with my past memories of the Khmer Rouge time”. (Vannath 2016, p. 116)

Vannath’s spiritual journey towards reconciliation culminated in her visit to the cremation site of Pol Pot, the Khmer Rouge’s Brother Number One who died of natural causes in 1998 which signaled the war’s end. Vannath recalls her moment:

With equanimity and without sadness, joy or hard feelings, I burn incense and lit a candle for the liberation of his soul.

I believe that Pol Pot’s existence in this world was a part of nature. War and peace, life and death, sorrow and joy, good and evil, disaster and harmony are all intertwined. We cannot pick and choose things we like, discarding things that we do not like. But what we do is maintain our mental balance and equilibrium to better face reality and to be part of solution.

I feel fortunate to be able to live and survive the extreme life experiences which enlighten me to the reality of nature.

(Vannath 2016, pp. 116–17)

After a long-term engagement with and work in the peace processes at the centers of conflict and power, Vannath retired from the CSD in 2006 and yet continues her volunteering with various non-governmental organizations as well as humanitarian activities. She also remains a political and social observer for media sources (Vannath 2016, p. xi). Vannath later turned to Buddhist practices, especially vipassana meditation, to find a way to relieve her trauma. Her conclusion is the law of karma: that nature takes its course. Forgiveness can occur once acceptance is made, the insightful acceptance lies in the law of nature. Vannath’s latter chapters of her “survivor’s odyssey” exemplify how precarious situations in her journey inform her Buddhist dhamma. “Anicca and Anatta10 as usual” is a common response from Vannath, whenever I reach out to her checking her well-being in recent years. Her understanding of this profound Buddhist teaching does not solely derive from her solitude practice of meditation but also stems from her life and work experience, seeing things in a full circle.

6. Conclusions: Rematriation

Two accounts of Khmer Dhammacārinīs evidently rewrite the history of women after the war. Both leading Buddhist women brought about the new image of ‘virtuous/meritorious women’ against the prevailing representations of the broken female body (Ly 2020b), a housekeeper (2020a), a mad mother (Ly 2021) and a sex worker who faced indignity from societal stigma while they needed to pay a debt of gratitude to their destitute family members in the aftermath of genocide (Derks 2008; Panh 1998). Syvorn and Vannath are the iconic figures of “caring mother and autonomous caregiver” reminiscing and recalling the lost female spiritual supremacy which periodically emerged in the difficult time of Cambodian past (Jacobsen 2008; Thompson 2016), despite being disrupted by the brutality of men’s serial wars.

Syvorn and Vannath therefore emulated the role of “Dhamma mother” instead of “mad mother”. The “broken female body” (Ly 2020b, p. 125) was recomposed, treated and turned into a dedicated, religiously defined body. In this regard, Syvorn’s efforts in protecting the environment and declaring Dhamma through psycho-social trauma healing means can be seen in the same light of Mother Earth, an image of female protector of religion. For Vannath, though displaced by the wars and atrocities as recounted in her ‘odyssey’, she ‘repatriated’ to her motherland to perform a rematriated role—a caregiver who helped resettle the nation through her leadership in social works, mediation and policy advocacy. Starting off her civic engagement with compassion, such as the Lokesvara, a Buddhist figure of compassion, loving and kindness, who hears the cries and sees the suffering of the world, ready to resolve the conflicts and problems, with equanimity, strength and wisdom. Vannath processed her past life with full comprehension as “Anicca and Anatta as usual”.

There are two paths of Dhammacārinī: one reaching out to thousands of communities at the periphery as exemplified by Oddom Van Syvorn, and another working mostly at the center as evident in the life of Chea Vannath. Both are striving to achieve reconciliation in a war-torn society and trying to reconstruct a moral order led by their female spiritual leadership in post-genocidal Cambodia. In contrast with the conventional charismatic male leadership that appears in the wake of a crisis, I argue these two figures are evocative of Dhammacārinī whose “rematriation” as a new cultural mechanism is harnessed to undo the legacy of displacement where the physical repatriation of people is not adequate to restore their lives. It deals primarily with the ethics of care and interdependence which resonates well with the vision of nature. Both Syvorn and Vannath emerged, not endorsed by prophecy, in the wake of trauma. They appeared as common survivors who shared grief and pain and worked to replace them with care and clarity.