The editor, article 2
“He was a good boy, very helpful, hardworking and he never made any trouble for his family,” said Sous Samoul of his son, Kim Phal Leap, one of four persons killed in the protest demanding for a wage increase in Cambodia on January 3, 2014.
Phal Leap, like many other garment workers that migrate to Phnom Penh from the rural villages, started working in his teens because he could not study further for lack of money. At the time of his death, he was a line leader in a sewing section—a position of responsibility in the Chlori Factory.
After finishing his ninth grade, equivalent to either middle school or high school in other countries, he started working in the garment industry at the age of 17. Like many other Cambodians from rural areas, Phal Leap spent years going from one garment factory to another in the industrial areas and economic zones.
His wife, Khat Samneang, whom he married two years earlier, had just given birth in November 2013 to their first child, Oul Tith Souvantey. The couple’s earning was about USD250 a month, including overtime work. Of this income, USD45 was deducted to pay for the rent, and the rest went for utilities, food and transportation. After having a child, the couple had to earn more to support their child.
“Their salary is too low. They (the couple) could not survive at that amount. That is why he (Phal Leap) decided to join the strike. The worker’s demand was just for decent living. It’s not for him to buy movie ticket or brand new car,” his father, Samoul, said. “He usually sends some money back home to support his family,” he added.
As the couple’s gross income was not sufficient, Phal Leap also had to work as a motorcycle taxi driver to earn a bit extra. Their situation is no different to other garment workers coping with high inflation rates and the cost of living. In November of 2013, the National Institute of Statistics of Cambodia recorded a 4.12 percent inflation rate, rendering the current USD 85 minimum wage insufficient.
Phal Leap was not affiliated with any unions, but his decision to join the protest obviously was out of burden shared among garment workers. After his death, the government and public’s perception of him and the others killed or wounded in the protest, may be negative—describing them as troublemakers, rioters and gangsters, but to his wife and parents, Phal Leap was a kind person dedicated to supporting his family.
“He was a very gentle man. He was very respectful to the elderly, and friendly. He was also very helpful. He also helped in the household chores. He was a hardworking man,” Samneang said of her husband. The last time she was able to speak to him was at 8am on January 3, by phone. It was just an hour later that he was shot dead.
What Khat Samneang knew was that her husband was just by the roadside along Vreng Sreng Road, inside the industrial park. When she last spoke to him, she told him about the crackdown on the workers the day before, January 2, at the Yakjin Factory. This incident resulted in the arrest of 10 labour leaders and garments workers. Several persons, including two journalists who were covering the incident, were also beaten and attacked. (See related story: How and why the 23 protestors were arrested, prosecuted).
By 9am on January 3, the military police deployed at Canadia Industrial Park, started shooting at the protestors, chasing them away, beating people; arresting and detaining any person on streets they could get their hands on. Some were dragged from coffee shops, their rented houses or other places the police thought the protestors were hiding. The incident left four people dead, including Phal Leap. He was 26 years old when he died.
The three other garment workers killed were Pheng Khosal, 24, of the Y Tech Factory; Yien Rihty, 26, of the Sin Chao Factory; and Som Ravy, 25, of the New Mingda Factory.
Another victim, Khem Sophath, 16, who was last seen by witnesses visibly injured, and in custody of the military police, has disappeared. On February 3, Mr. Ibrahim Salama, director of the UN Human Rights Treaties Division, in Geneva, informed Ms. Naly Pilorge, director of LICADHO, that her request for urgent action “has been registered.”
By January 30, Salama said his office has requested the Government to “send information regarding the actions taken by competent authorities to clarify the alleged enforced disappearance, the measures (it has) adopted to protect his family and relatives, and the results of the investigations.”
It was Khat Samneang’s sister, also a garment worker in another factory, who informed her about the shooting to death of protestors and garments workers. She quickly asked her to contact her husband, but nobody could reach his phone. “We got scared and worried if something happened to him because normally he doesn’t turn off his phone,” his father, Samoul, said.
At 2:30pm, they knew that Phal Leap had been wounded and taken to the hospital. Samoul immediately sent his other son to the hospital. By 3:30pm, this son found Phal Leap, not among the dozens of persons wounded and waiting at the emergency ward, but among the dead in the morgue.
Phal Leap’s brother saw a doctor examining the body, but neither the doctor nor any staff from the hospital explained to him the circumstances of how he had died. The hospital doctors did provide the victim’s death certificate which contained information of the findings of the examination and that: “he was injured by bullet wounds, died of bullet wounds.” There were no other details.
The doctor asked Samoul to keep the document; however, neither he nor his daughter-in-law could understand why they had to keep it, and for what purpose. Understandably, keeping of forensic evidence and forensic methods of investigation is nonexistent in Cambodia. Nevertheless, some doctors do conduct post-mortems regardless of whether or not their findings would be used in the investigation. (See related story: Interview on the idea of justice and accountability.)
Most of the garment workers who were killed, wounded and arrested during the January 2 and 3 incidents were workers who had come from rural villages. It explains why the families of the dead find it difficult, not only because they do not know how criminal prosecution functions in Cambodia, but the cost and financial burden it would have on them, if they file a complaint for the death of their loved ones.
Even local political leaders, like Samoul, who is part of Cambodia’s ruling party, had no idea how he could file a complaint. When asked if he was thinking of filing a complaint to seek remedy for the death of his son, he said: “I am not sure, and I have that question back. If I file a complaint, what should be in the complaint?”
“When I got this letter” (death certificate), I did not look exactly at what it is. I didn’t look because I was shocked. So we just got the paper and we do not look at the paper. I wondered why they asked me to keep this paper,” Samoul said.
Samoul, a member of the Cambodian People’s party, the ruling political party in Cambodia; and deputy village chief in Rolaing Kreul Commune, Samrong Tong District, Kampong Speu province, could not understand why the military police shot at unarmed workers. Why they would kill his son over a just demand for “a decent living.”
Samoul, however, explains why his son was so confident that in joining a peaceful demonstration, everything would be fine. Phal Leap was one of the hundreds of protestors, who are not only garment workers, but also tuk tuk drivers, students and ordinary villagers, who were either joining the protest or supporting the call for a reasonable wage increase (See related story: They shoot anyone on streets, in their homes.)
“My son believed strongly that these people—the military—are not able (sic) to kill their own people in Cambodia. Khmer could not kill Khmer,” as Samoul remembers his son’s words. To him, his son’s assumption was wrong.
Like Phal Leap, the three garment workers who were killed, and the boy who remains disappeared, were not members of labour unions. They, however, joined the protest for a common demand: minimum wage of USD160 a month.
Samoul repeated his son’s words and purpose in joining the protest: “Their (his son and workers) demand is to cope with the living cost. So it is not for holiday or those lazy activities. It was just for their family. They send money back home so the family can use it for their daily needs in the village.”
In Cambodia’s rural villages, it is common for a family to have their sons, daughters, in-laws and relatives, migrate to Phnom Penh or to other places, where there are garment factories, for work. Since most of them are young, it is also common to see the elderly taking care of these worker’s children, their grandsons and granddaughters; and do all domestic work in their absence.
“It is exhausting to work in the factory. We have to sit (sewing) all day. I want to go back to the village. There it is better, but why we don’t also like staying there because you have nothing to do,” said a 28-year-old garment worker at the Canadia Industrial Park. She and her 17-year-old sister are from Prey Veng province.
In Phal Leap’s own village, most of the young people have left their village to work as factory workers in Phnom Penh. When this interview was conducted, a crowd of onlookers in the neighbourhood joined in, visibly willing to share their stories and to listen. “You can also check with other villagers how they feel about my son,” Samoul said pointing to his neighbours who were present.
Towards the end of the interview, speaking to an interpreter, Samoul had this appeal:
“Help us find justice for my son. Not just for my son, but also for other killed and injured workers; and those who are arrested and put in jail. I am calling on the international community to put pressure on the Government. They should be held responsible for their acts for the deaths of (four) persons, they should give compensation to injured workers, and release the 23 workers,” Samoul said.
