Cambodia-Thailand conflict: Monks, dancers and volunteers offer respite as violence escalates

Long-festering tensions over border territory have escalated into armed conflict between Cambodia and Thailand, leading to dozens of deaths on both sides and displacing tens of thousands of people.

Neither side is prepared to claim responsibility for the first volley on Thursday, and they each blame the other for the continuing skirmishes. While regional and international allies and organisations have called for a ceasefire, scant attempts at mediation had resulted in no peace talks as of early on Sunday.

It's a grim situation, but there is some light amid the darkness. On both sides of the border, some people are working around the destruction, intent on creating a safe space or finding normalcy.

A temple in Thailand's northeastern province of Surin has something most of the country's 27,000 active Buddhist monasteries do not: a concrete bunker to shelter from bombs and shelling.

The temple, which asked not to be identified by name because of safety concerns, is about 10 kilometers from the border with Cambodia.

The temple's abbot, Phut Analayo, said the decision to build a bunker was made shortly after a brief armed clash between Thai and Cambodian soldiers in May inflamed cross-border relations, culminating in the current fighting.

Phut Analayo said donations paid for materials and equipment for the bunker, and the temple's monks and nearby villagers built it in four or five days. Construction was speedy because the bunker is made from large precast concrete drainage pipes a little over a meter in diameter, protected by mounds of earth, metal frames and sheeting.

It's divided into two tubular rooms, each about four meters (yards) long, and wired with electricity. There's a kitchen with a kettle, an electric rice cooker and basic cookware.

It's a tight fit, but because most of the nearby residents have fled to safer areas, there is enough space for the temple's six monks and the dozen or so villagers who sleep there every night.

“When we need to use the bathroom, we have to wait to make sure if things are quiet. If it's quiet out there, we will go out,” Phut Analayo said.

He said his temple has ceased religious activities for now but that the remaining monks stayed out of concern for the monastery and the people it serves.

“If I leave, the people who rely on us will lose their spirit," he said. “I'm scared too, but I'll just stay here for now, when I can.”

Thai monasteries frequently serve as sanctuaries for stray dogs, and the more than 10 living at the temple are seemingly unbothered by the crisis.

"If I leave them behind, how will they live? What will they eat? So I have to stay to take care of them. Every life loves their lives all the same,” Phut Analayo said.

Learning ballroom dancing is how some senior citizens in northeastern Thailand usually spend their leisure hours, but the latest border conflict has motivated them to try to help some of the thousands of people displaced by the fighting.

About a dozen members of the Ballroom Dance for Health of the Elderly of Surin Province club went Saturday to a shelter housing about 1,000 evacuees, where they handed out clothes, toiletries, blankets and pillows.

Retired civil servant Chadaporn Duchanee, the ballroom teacher, initiated the project. On Friday, she gathered with friends at her home to fill small yellow plastic bowls with toiletries and other goods to give to the evacuees.

The 62-year-old posted on Facebook about the donation she made on Thursday, and her pupils proved happy to participate, too.

“We want to help, said Chadaporn. “Everyone left in a hurry, without bringing their belongings, just trying to escape the line of fire, so they fled empty handed,”

It looks just like your typical roadside stall found commonly all over Southeast Asia, but this one seems exceptionally well-provisioned.

Also, it's not selling anything, even though there are boxes of bottled water, plastic bags filled with fruit and vegetables and the occasional packet of instant noodles. It is there to solicit donations of food and other essentials to give to evacuees escaping fighting along the border. It also gives handouts to members of the armed forces headed in the other direction, toward the front lines.

This pop-up operation is at the border of Siem Reap, home to Cambodia's Angkor Wat temple complex, and Oddar Meanchey province, which is an active combat zone. It's a one-stop shop on a key road that convoys of police and military vehicles roar along with sirens blaring.

Chhar Sin, a 28-year-old self-described youth volunteer, mans the stall, which is located in her home Srey Snam district.

“We're used to seeing people bustling around, we're not surprised by that,” she said, between handing out parcels to eager hands. But even here, 100 kilometers from the border with Thailand, she senses people don't feel safe, as the streets seem emptier than usual.

When she woke up Saturday morning, Kim Muny, made the decision not to open her convenience store, but instead cook rice for members of the Cambodian military and fleeing civilians.

“Cambodians have a kind heart. When we heard that soldiers and displaced people needed help, we decided to help with an open heart,” said the 45-year-old after donating parcels of rice wrapped in banana leaves at the stall. “We know our soldiers don't have time to cook, so we will do it for them.”

Alone in a mostly evacuated pagoda, Tho Thoross began a Buddhist chant to express gratitude for all that is good in life.

The 38-year-old Tho Thoross is one of the last monks in the city of Samrong, the provincial capital of Cambodia's Oddar Meanchey province, which is on the front line of the cross-border fighting. Most civilians have fled the town, spooked by the sounds of artillery and what they suspect was a Thai military drone hovering above them.

All but seven of the 40 monks at the monastery have left. As chief monk of Wat Prasat Samrong Thom, Tho Thoross ordered more than a dozen of the temple's novices — young monks in training — to evacuate to displacement camps farther from the border with Thailand, which is 40 kilometers away.