How I saw former King Sihanouk

One Saturday, mid-afternoon, Mony, the director of my partner organization, called me. He rarely calls on the weekend. I was mystified. He said that their letter to the committee had been approved and that the next day, Sunday, several staff members from my partner organization were going to the Royal Palace to pay respects to the body of the late king Sihanouk. We were meeting at the office at 12:30pm and would head to the Royal Palace from there. Did I want to come?

I was really, really, really worried it was an open casket. Sihanouk died in October and Mony was calling me mid-January. However, after a pros and cons list, I decided that there was no other way I would have such an opportunity, so absolutely, I would go. Upon later reflection, an open casket also seemed unlikely.

I considered my appearance for such an occasion, and opted for modest and classy. However, when I arrived at the appointed meeting place, I realized I completely messed up. The appropriate funeral attire in Cambodia is a white top and black trousers for men and black skirt for women (women can't wear trousers, by I digress). I had forgotten this social expectation entirely. When I asked Khmer colleague if I was dressed incorrectly, I received a very Khmer response: a chuckle followed by "I don't know." Thankfully, several of my female colleagues had brought extra clothes and redressed me in the correct attire, proclaiming that I looked much better that way anyway.

After all pinning black ribbons to our tops, we piled in a mini-van and headed to the Royal Palace. Several relatives of various colleagues also tagged along totaling 22 people, all in matching attire (except for the pastor). Outside the palace were many other groups like ours who had come for the same purpose, and in matching attire. It was also something of a market with hawkers setting food, souvenirs and trinkets.

At the appointed 2pm, we queued up in front of the Palace gates. This is the only time I have seen people queue in 2.5 years in Cambodia. We filed through the metal detectors, and towards the back of the palace complex where there was a giant tent with plastic chairs queued in the same forward direction. Each group who had come to see the king were seated in one segment to wait their turn. It was extremely organized which proved to me that organization it's just a German or American thing. [Henceforth, I expect more of this country.]

We had to wait a good thirty minutes for our turn. I quickly got bored and cranky. Various colleagues chatted up their friends or relatives in other groups. One colleague explained that there was a special committee set up in the wake of Sihanouk's death. Any community or organization group could write to that committee and get permission to see Sihanouk.

When it was our turn, we removed our shoes and queued, hands positioned in a prayer like position. We ascended about 30 steps into the chamber where Sihanouk was housed. The room was decorated almost entirely in white, a color unofficially representing mourning. It was also very cold with large AC units in each corner. Sihanouk was in a giant gold and white traditional casket in the center.

As we entered, a monk chanted something and we dropped on our knees, bowing forward so our open palms touched the floor, then back up with our hands in the prayer position. We did this movement three times, and then stood again, hands still clasped in front of us. Hardly 30 seconds later, we queued out. As we left, we bowed deeply to a member of the royal family who clasped our prayer-like hands on the way out. At a Khmer funeral, the spouse or a child of the deceased should greet every person who comes to see the body. Apparently the royal family was rotating through it's membership. I was informed she was an auntie. After this, we retrieved our shoes and queued past the tent where other groups waited and back to our van.

More then anything, it was a profoundly surreal experience. How often does this happen, that a monarch and icon passes away and we can go? How fortunate/tragic that this event occurred while I was in Cambodia? Why couldn't we have observed the chamber and casket for a little longer?

Mony and I agreed on two things the next day at work. First, this was a historical event and we are thankful for the opportunity to participate. Secondly, that somehow, "seeing" Sihanouk provides some sort of cathartic experience for many Cambodians. I'm not Cambodian, but I learned something about Cambodia that day.