The Road

Just before I came to Cambodia my friend and football teammate Jules gave me a book called The Road.  It’s about the struggle for survival in a barren, post-apocolyptic wasteland.  It was a nice thought, but I decided to wait until I returned from rural, post-conflict Cambodia before reading it!

But perhaps that was a mistake:  the thing I talk about, whinge about, dream about more than anything else here is my goddammed godforsaken road.

The 50km route from the provincial town of Sisophon to my village is officially National Road 59 - the equivalent of an ‘A’ road in the UK.

But as you leave town the tarmac abruptly becomes a derisory dirt track. A large, faded sign mockingly pronounces that a new highway has been funded by the Asia Development Bank, work to start in 2006 and finish 2008.

In fact, the running joke here is that the new road will be completed “in just two years”.  A rolling two years, that is, from whenever you ask the question.  It was two years when I arrived here, two years ago, and if it’s even started in two years time I’ll be happy.

So what’s the big deal?

Well, clearly the main reason to improve the road is for my personal comfort!  This is particularly the case since the surface got so bad that even the once-a-day bus service stopped last year, apparently as the vehicles could no longer cope with the journey.  What about me?

There are other, even more convincing arguments.  Watching poor local people struggling through the waterlogged clay it’s clear a new surface would deeply improve their lives.  Everyone works the land, even those with other jobs.  If they are lucky enough to have excess rice then they need to transport it to market.  Equally, a decent road would open up their villages to new goods and services which have never made it up the terrible old one.  Watching children struggle through the mud or market women cover their faces from the dust makes me feel wretched for what they haven’t got.

Our focus here is on maternal health, and if an expectant mother is diagnosed with a condition such as pre-eclampsia (basically pregnancy-induced high blood pressure) then it’s vital this is recognized and treated quickly.  Here, this can mean helping to prevent seizure, such as by giving magnesium sulphate injections and avoiding stimulation.  But the only cure is to have the baby.  As this is likely to be by caesarian, mothers need to be transferred to a larger hospital for this major operation.  And how to get there (still avoiding stimulation of course)?  The only way is in the back of our ancient ambulance, feeling every bump and rut in the hellish 50km route.  It must be an agony for a poor woman in such a condition - another compelling reason for the road to be improved.

Sadly, some of those who are meant to be helping the poor also seem to be a little shy of the present travel conditions.  Whereas nearby Siem Reap is heaving with well-meaning charities, very few indeed can be persuaded to help the real poor people in my area.  Is it coincidence that they work where there are already great new roads which join the fancy hotels to the amazing temples?  I understand why of course - the most important thing for any NGO is to ensure their shiny white four-by-fours don’t get muddy.

So much for the poor then.  But surely the rich dollar-earning tourists have more influence? 

You see, my road is also a key link for anyone wanting to visit the pre-Angkorian temples at Banteay Chhmar.  The site is being restored by the UN Heritage Fund, and there are impressive plans for a ‘’community-based’’ approach to tourism there (no hotels, but rather staying with local people and getting an insight into how they live, eat and even travel – courtesy of an ox-cart ride!). 

But for now, few tourists brave a 100+ kilometre round trip on bone bashing boulders when the alternative is the smooth, straight tarmac direct to Angkor.  Surely the tourist income will help persuade the authorities to build a new road?

There is one other factor:  the N59 runs parallel to the Thai border, from the south up towards the area of disputed temples.  With a new government taking power in Thailand it is hoped that the will be no more fighting – but the military’s desire for a good transport link for troops and equipment must make it of some strategic importance.

So why then does this road – my road – remain the only unpaved national road in the whole country?

Money is bound to be an issue – over 50kms of road doesn’t come cheap, and funding is scarce in the present economic climate.  Apparently the original plan was bankrolled by Thailand, who pulled the plug when the recent fighting broke out.

But I have another theory. The people up here are close-knit, independent and proud.  The government in Phnom Penh closely oversees roadbuilding, knowing the political value of being seen to bring new infrastructure to a region (Prime Minister Hun Sen is said to insist on personally opening every new bridge and highway in the country).  So it’s simple – there’ll be a new road just as soon as the unruly folk of my area start voting the right way!

There’s an upside to all this:  a new road would certainly help development, but it would cause problems too.  Evidence suggests that better roads actually lead to worse traffic problems – more people will drive cars and lorries, they will go even faster, and they will maim and kill even more people.  They will also cause more noise and pollution whilst contributing nothing to the communities they zoom past.

So as I slither along the mud track to my village backwater I know in my head that a new road will on balance be good for the people here.  But in my heart I’m very glad that, at least for my time here, I will enjoy the peace and safety of a car-free existence. 

A peace I will enjoy on my balcony, watching people walk or cycle by, and reading a good book – anything other than The Road!