The first mistake pacifist Canadians make is to think that all gunfire is
bad. Gunfire can be extremely useful, for example, as a makeshift fire
alarm. My introduction to this use of gunfire came early. Just before
dawn one morning, I awoke to gunshots around my house. It turned
out to be a house fire, or rather, a shack fire down the block. An
American resident explained that firing into the air is the accepted way
to call for a fire truck. With so many guns and so few phone lines it's
the most effective system. The gunfire works quite well: the police and
fire trucks arrived quickly, and the fire was put out before the entire
block was consumed.
Even guns used in their traditional roles as weapons can benefit
society. How often does "the little guy" in Canada get pushed around
by some unfeeling bureaucracy? As long as the little guy in Cambodia
has access to weapons, he can hold his own. Dara is a wonderfully
gentle soul who works for the Ministry of Defense (for $16 a month)
and also for a foreign entrepreneur (at $120 a month). One day the
water utility did some pipe repair near his house.
Such work is usually financed by turning off the water of the houses
nearby until each house has "contributed" to the repair costs. Dara was
willing to contribute, but not the $300 they demanded. Normally, one
must donate or else do without water. Instead, Dara had four privates
from his regiment surround one of the water company's tractors,
holding it hostage. The crisis ended peacefully with a compromise
contribution of $100.
But, while guns were silent in this dispute, they make an even stronger
point when fired and can be a wonderful alternative to the lengthy
process of writing complaint letters, hiring lawyers, going to court, etc.
Theng Boon Ma, Cambodia's richest business
man, provides us with
an illustrative example of conflict resolution. The following is a
composite of several articles from Phnom Penh newspapers:
THENG BOON MA SHOOTS OFF
MORE THAN HIS MOUTH TO RAC
Theng Boon Ma, an alleged drug smuggler and long
time associate of
[Second Prime Minister] Hun Sen, was angered when Royal Air
Cambodge could not locate his luggage after a recent flight. According
to reports, Mr. Boon Ma requested a weapon from his bodyguard and received
in hand an AK-47.
Mr. Boon Ma, accompanied by the bodyguard, then returned to
the terminal and walked onto the tarmac. There he fired at the plane
which had brought him from Bangkok. One tire valued at $2,000 was
destroyed in the shooting.
Mr. Boon Ma does not deny the accusations. "They give such poor
service, he explains. "If they were my employees, I would have shot
them in the head." Mr. Boon Ma also acknowledged that he stopped
shooting only because "it was too dark to see if there were passengers
in the way."
Airport security refused to comment on the fact that the two men
openly brought weapons past customs and immigration control onto
the tarmac. Police officials acknowledge that Mr. Boon Ma's actions
were illegal, but concede that they have no plans to arrest him.
In Cambodia, guns are much more than merely utilitarian implements
of commerce. Khmer New Year is a perfect example of the joy guns
bring to the community. The 1997 Khmer New Year began on April
13, at 10:48 PM. From my room, I went out to the balcony to check
out what I thought were fireworks and firecrackers were ringing in the
new year.
To my surprise, the noise was people in various parts of the city firing
their guns into the air. The sight of the tracer bullets rising up into the
night sky was undeniably beautiful. If the gun was far away, long
fingers of red just floated up and then faded out into the sky. If the gun
was close, it was like watching a shooting star in reverse.
But you need not wait until New Year to fire off a gun with your
buddies. One teacher discovered this on an outing with his Khmer
girlfriend. "We were swimming in the Mekong, he recalls, "when
suddenly, shots rang out. I tensed up, ready to run. Pholla [his girl
friend] just shook her head. I listened closely, and could make out the
sound of drunk men making merry up on the hill. If my friends and I in
the States were to come out and drink a few beers, we would bring out
the Frisbee or the football. Here, they bring out their sidearms."
Another teacher describes a day during the rainy season: "I was
teaching when a thunderstorm started in the middle of class.
Three guys got up and went to the window. They fired off three or four
rounds each, and then sat down again. Everyone acted like it was the
most normal thing to do. I found out later that they were shooting at
the sky to scare the thunder clouds away. It's a Khmer tradition."
In addition to being wonderful in groups, guns have a certain charm
one on one. A Canadian teacher tells me of an encounter with a Khmer
and his pistol outside a brothel. First he relates in excruciating and
shameless detail how skillful his prostitute was, and how generously
his $1 tip complemented the $2 fee.
He goes on to describe a drunk man standing outside the brothel with a
pistol in hand. "I wasn't worried yet; it's just another drunk impressing
the $2 whores with what a powerful motherfucker he is. I acknow
ledged the guy with a smile, and hoping that it was enough, turned to
go. Apparently it wasn't enough because he fired the pistol behind me.
I slowly turned to see the man smiling at me and pointing the pistol at
the ground."
"I gave him a look that I hoped said 'I see that you are a very powerful
warrior, and that you have chosen not to point your gun at me. That's
very nice of you, Mr. Powerful Warrior. There is clearly no need to
kill me, because I pose no challenge to you.' I don't know if that's the
message he got. I do know that he pointed his gun at the ground near
my feet and fired. He turned to the girls to include them in the fun. I
said to him, 'Ban, k'nyom trou tou p'taya. [OK, I have to go home
now].
Laughing in surprised delight at my Khmer, he raised his pistol to
the sky and fired again. We both laughed at this wonderful private
joke. After one more 'tou p'taya,' I turned and walked away."
My own initiation to gunfire-as-greeting came in the aftermath of last
July's coup. I was at the airport, which was being thoroughly looted.
The soldiers, having finished their own looting, were now selling
concessions to civilians: Each civilian had to pay some commission
based on the value of their loot. It is a testimony to human greed and
perseverance to watch an eighty year old woman loot a file cabinet
easily twice her size. When I approached the gate in order to take part
in the fun, the soldiers let me in. A shot exploded behind me. I turned
to see a soldier with his AK-47 pointed at the sky, smiling with his
buddies. It was just a reminder that he had a gun and I did not. I
proceeded without further distraction.
These friendly pistol shots pale in comparison to the touching gesture
of one Khmer friend. We had gone back to his house after the
nightclub we were at closed. At about 1:00 AM, I got up to head
home. "It's a bit late," he says, and pulling a pistol from his
waistband, he asks if I would like to borrow it for the ride home. Even
more poignant, he offered me his mistress the next time we went out.
That, however, is another story.
As fire alarms and fireworks, as tools of commerce and compromise,
as tokens of greeting and friendship, guns are a benefit to their owners
and to society. To see what weapons and violence can do for your
country, just spend some time in Cambodia.
Amit Gilboa is in Bangkok writing a book as the first step
in his recovery from a year in Cambodia.
Check out the print version.
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