Cambodia is one of those places that just gets to you. Nestled in the heart of Southeast Asia, it’s alive with colors, scents, and sounds that seem to fill everything around you. As soon as you arrive, you feel the warmth of the people. The capital, Phnom Penh, buzzes with life—tuk-tuks zipping by, markets fragrant with fresh spices and street food, and temples woven right into the city. Cambodia is a blend of rich history and vibrant, youthful energy.

And of course, there’s the legendary Angkor Wat. Those ancient temples, hidden among thick trees with roots draped over them, feel like something out of a fairytale. But Cambodia isn’t just about temples and stones. The real soul of the country is in its villages along the rivers and amidst endless rice fields, where families live close to nature and follow traditions that have been passed down for generations. Here, people greet each other with a smile, and time seems to slow down for a friendly chat.

But beneath those warm smiles and lively markets lies a story that’s heavy. Cambodia carries a painful past, a history that’s still felt in everyday life. In 1975, everything changed when the Khmer Rouge, led by Pol Pot, seized power. What began as an idealistic vision to “start Cambodia over” became an absolute nightmare. People were forced to leave everything behind and move to the countryside. Families were torn apart, children separated from their parents, and the familiar world was dismantled. The goal was to return to “basics”—no modern technology, no cities, no outside influence. It sounded like a fresh start, but in reality, it was the destruction of Cambodian society and the death of millions.

In Phnom Penh, you can still visit the Tuol Sleng Museum, once a school, but turned into a prison and torture center by the Khmer Rouge. Thousands of people were held here, and many never made it out. Today, it’s a place of quiet reflection, where walls seem to whisper stories, and the weight of the past lingers in the air. Many who were tortured there were later taken to the so-called Killing Fields, where they were buried in mass graves.

The Khmer Rouge era is often seen as one of the darkest and most terrifying chapters in modern history. What makes it especially haunting is the systematic way it was carried out. Nobody was safe; anyone suspected of even questioning the regime’s rules could be taken to the labor camps. There, people—elders, children—worked under the scorching sun, barely given enough water or food. People were too afraid to speak, sometimes even to think, because no one knew who was watching.

The cruelty of that time left deep scars on Cambodian families. Generations still feel the loss of loved ones, the fear, the violence. Children grew up without parents and faced a future without hope. The Khmer Rouge even tried to erase Cambodian culture by executing religious leaders, artists, destroying temples, and banning traditions. It was an assault on everything Cambodia had once been.

In 1979, when Vietnamese troops finally overthrew the Khmer Rouge, Cambodia was “liberated.” But the country was shattered, both physically and emotionally. Trauma ran deep, and people had to start rebuilding their lives from the ground up. The shadows of that past haven’t simply vanished—it took years before even a hint of stability returned.

In the years that followed, Cambodia began a long journey toward justice. With support from the United Nations, a tribunal was established in Phnom Penh to hold the Khmer Rouge leaders accountable. It was a big step, a recognition of what victims and their families endured. But the bitterness remains, as many of the perpetrators never faced justice and live freely even today. Still, Cambodia continues to pursue not just justice, but also reconciliation and healing. Memorials like the Tuol Sleng Museum and the Killing Fields encourage people to share their experiences, to talk, remember, and process the collective pain. It’s a way for the nation to begin healing its wounds.

The Khmer Rouge era left lasting scars on the community. Between 1975 and 1979, millions of lives were lost, and Cambodia is still in the process of recovery. Yet there’s hope, too. The memories of the past, as painful as they are, aren’t being forgotten. Instead, they’re honoured as a way to pass on strength to future generations, a testament to the resilience it took to keep going.