Keo Nea looked so beautiful at her wedding, you almost wouldn’t have noticed the month-old bullet wound on her arm. Still, on what should have been one of the happiest days of her life, Nea struggled to smile. Her face couldn’t hide the pain.

The strange thing is, Nea wasn’t shot in a conflict zone or even in a bad part of town. Nea was shot at work.

Nea is one of more than 300,000 garment workers in Cambodia, most of them women from poor, rural areas. On February 20^th, she arrived as usual at the factory where she makes shoes for the German sporting goods company, Puma – but a typical day of work soon turned to chaos. The Chinese factory owner shut out all of the workers in response to their demands for an extra $10 a month for food and transportation subsidies. Nea remembers more than a thousand women protesting while a small group of men threw rocks at the door. It wasn’t long before she saw a group of men arrive to break it up.

“They told us they were going to ‘solve the problem,’” she said.

One man opened fire on the crowd, shooting Nea and her two coworkers Nuth Sakhorn and Buot Chenda. Chenda took a bullet to the chest that went straight through her and out the other side. Sakhorn’s bullet went through her back and arm. As the three women were rushed to hospital for treatment, Chenda was near death.

“I was so scared,” said Nea. “So scared.”

None of the women saw who fired the gun, but later they would learn it was the town governor, Chhouk Bandith. Local officials attempted to buy their silence with promises of money and motorbikes, but the women refused and filed a complaint.

On March 1^st, the Ministry of Interior publically identified Bandith as the sole suspect, but no warrant was issued for his arrest. On March 6, Prime Minister Hun Sen issued a sub-decree to remove Bandith as governor, but he was relocated to another government post. On March 20^th, Bandith admitted to the shooting in the provincial court, but still he wasn’t charged with a crime. He walked out the door a free man.

One month later, the court’s Chief Prosecutor finally ruled that Bandith was guilty of “causing injury without intent,” – a misdemeanor offense. Again, he walked.

Today, Chhouk Bandith is free, while the women feel scared and helpless.

“He is a rich man and has power in our province,” said Chenda. “That’s why he was punished so little.”

“I want justice, but I have no power to do anything,” said Nea. “I don’t think the law will find justice for me.”

Despite his appearance in court, the reasons for Bundith’s involvement in the incident remain unclear. For its part, Puma conducted a factory investigation following the incident and offered to pay for the girls’ medical costs.

After lengthy recoveries in hospital, each of the women returned back to work at the same factory where the shooting took place. They desperately need the money to support their families. Still, they say they wont ever protest for a wage increase again.

“I’m too scared,” said Nea. “Of course. Everyone is scared.”

Nea is only 18, the minimum age to be a garment worker in Cambodia. She’s a young girl. Now a bandaged wound and a solemn expression mark almost all of her wedding photos – a grim reminder of the day her voice was violently silenced, a reminder that her shooter is better protected by her government than she is, and a reminder that he, a convicted criminal, has more freedom than she, a poor female laborer, could ever hope for.

H&M window display on Rue Ste. Catherine, Montreal, Canada. © Heather Stilwell 2012.

I’ve had a lot of nicknames in my life, but no doubt the strangest one came in university when my roommates started jokingly calling me ‘No Logo’ – a reference to Naomi Klein’s book on pervasive corporate branding and sweat shops. I wasn’t exactly vocal about it, but I certainly preferred my clothes not to look like a billboard advertisement – especially one that had been sewn together in a factory full of kids. I guess my friends thought that was quirky.

Flash ahead to last year as I was preparing to leave home for Cambodia, a country whose economy is largely driven by its garment industry. Without thinking, I stocked my suitcase full of plain white T-shirts I bought for $10 each at H&M – only to arrive my first week and read that hundreds of female workers had just fainted at a local factory that supplies them. And it was far from the first case – similar incidents had occurred at a number of factories in Cambodia that supplied companies like the Gap, Levis, and Puma.

I remember venting about it with a friend from home. I didn’t want to feel complicit, but I couldn’t help it. “So what are you supposed to do,” he asked, “wear a burlap sack?”

Good question. Even when we want to do the right thing, the complexity of the global supply chain often makes it difficult to know what the right thing is. It’s kind of like showing up in the Congo with a Nikon camera to show the injustice of kids digging up conflict-minerals for electronics.

Navigating the system may be tricky, but when people’s lives are involved, it’s worth stopping to ask what’s behind the products we buy. And the reality is, in Cambodia, it’s not at all uncommon for female garment workers to faint by the hundreds while making clothes destined for abroad.

The latest incident happened just this week – this time in a factory that supplies Nike, a multinational sports label I’m guessing you’ve heard of. More than 100 female workers fainted on Wednesday, and sadly, it wasn’t a one-off. It happened again two days later in the same factory, only this time, nearly 200 women fell.

On Friday, I went to the local hospital where the women were taken for treatment. There weren’t enough beds in the emergency ward for everyone, so rows of women were strewn across the floor as intravenous drips pumped fluid into their veins. One woman collapsed outside the ward and had to be carried to one of the last remaining spots in the corner.

I spoke to Chay Ny, a 24-year-old worker who was lucky enough to receive a bed in the ward. She said she came to work that morning feeling fine, but after only a short time she started to feel short of breath and collapsed. Thirty-three-year-old Pang Simourn recalled how she tried to help another fainted worker, but soon collapsed as well.

So, why do they faint? The jury is still out on that one. Despite the startling frequency of these incidents, rarely does anyone offer a solid conclusion as to why the women “mysteriously” drop. Often, the issue is chalked up to “mass-hysteria.” Just a bunch of hormonal women, at it again.

Even if the symptoms express themselves psychologically, there must be an underlying cause – one that is allowing this ‘inexplicable phenomenon’ to persist. The conditions under which the garments are made need to be more closely examined.

In Cambodia, 90 percent of garment factory workers are women. Often, they’ve moved to the city from poor, rural areas in hope of supporting their families back home. Instead, they take on a series of temporary contracts that offer them little job security or benefits. In the factories, many endure harmful chemicals, poor ventilation, and long hours. For their efforts they receive around 2 USD a day.

I took a look online last week to see if any reports of this week’s faintings had made it into international press. I found a few. Styleite magazine filed the report in their “WTF” section, sandwiched in between articles about Rhianna rumors and how to expertly apply mounds of make-up to achieve the “no-make-up look.” With little call for self-reflection, New York Magazine published a lone paragraph in its fashion section. The text linked to another report on how Cambodian police recently attacked three female garment workers for attempting to demand a higher wage. The report opened with the statement, “Well, this sounds terrible.”

Um … yah, it does.

But if “this sounds terrible,” and “what the fuck,” are all we can think of to say or do, then we’re not exactly going to help change much. Instead of inspiring you to give up in frustration or resign yourself to a life in burlap, I hope this post is a small start to making clearer connections between certain brands of clothes and the lives of the people who make them.

Below are my photos from the hospital in Kampong Speu, Cambodia, after nearly 200 female workers fainted in a factory that supplies Nike.

* This story is the first in a series on the garment industry. To continue reading, click here: Part 2

More than 2,500 years later, a Cambodian monk is adding a modern twist to a journey of his own.

Venerable Loun Sovath maintains that Buddhism, human rights, and democracy are intertwined philosophies. He is an outspoken activist, documentary filmmaker, and poet – and earlier this month he boarded a plane to deliver his message of peace to Canada.

“It is very difficult working for human rights and democracy in Cambodia,” said Sovath in Montreal. “I came here because I want Khmer people in solidarity to help each other.”

Sovath is well known among Khmer Canadians, many of whom left Cambodia as early as 1975 to escape the brutal Khmer Rouge regime. Last Saturday at Wat Buddha Sodhara in Saint Laurent, Sovath spoke to Montrealers about Buddhism, human rights issues in Cambodia, and a monk’s role in fighting injustice.

“I’ve never ever seen such an inspirational speech like this,” said event organizer Samnang Chuop. “People can listen to him talk for hours and hours.”

Sovath spoke in particular about corporate land acquisitions and violent forced evictions in Cambodia – an escalating problem as the country rapidly develops.

Few Cambodians have official titles for their land, a legacy of the Khmer Rouge who outlawed land ownership in 1975. As a result, land disputes are common and often result in evictions to make way for urban development or agro-business.

While some of the evicted are compensated, rights groups like Amnesty International continue to document violent evictions and the detainment of protestors, often women and children. On Jan. 26, Cambodian human rights organization LICADHO reported at least five incidents in which armed forces opened fire during protests in the two months prior.

Sovath became personally invested in the land issue after police shot and injured both his brother and nephew during a land dispute in Chi Kreng community, Siem Reap Province in 2009. Four days later he had already produced a documentary on the issue and was using it “to educate the people to know the power of themselves.”

Though his activism is peaceful, Sovath continues to be threatened by government and police officials. Even high-ranking religious officials claim he is violating the monastic code. He is banned from all pagodas and is in danger of being defrocked. Still, Sovath continues his work tirelessly.

“The more they stop me, the more I am strong and stand up. Again and again, more and more,” he said.

On Saturday, Sovath called on Canadians to support land activists and victims, not just with donations, but also through advocacy and petitions to the Canadian government. Sovath’s message of peaceful action resounded through the audience.

“Before, when I was small, I wanted to do something, but I was too scared and I felt alone, so I was discouraged and I lost hope,” said Sarom Om, a Khmer Canadian living in Montreal for 29 years. “If we see someone who stands up, who has confidence, that will help people who want to stand up and help and it will continue like that.”

“I’ve lived in Canada 20 years. I love this country,” said Sok Siven. “I want my Cambodia, my Khmer people, to have a life like me in Canada also.”

Sovath’s Canadian trip will include stays in Montreal, Toronto, Calgary and Ottawa.

Originally published on February 25th in Openfile.

“My name Ousa.

People here difficult.

We want organization help.

Need small clinic.

No toilet here.

Help people.”

I had only given Ousa my notebook to write down his name, but these are the words he left me with. I met him at Oudong last week, at a site where more than 200 people were shipped after being forcibly evicted from their homes in Borei Keila on January 3rd. Left with nowhere to live, they were swept far out of sight to an open dusty field more than 40 km from Cambodia’s capital and from their lives.

Ousa walked around the site with me, past families living under tarps, past children waiting under the hot sun to pump water, past women so old and fragile-looking it made me wonder what I’d do if it were my own grandmother lying on a wooden board in the dirt.

When I arrived at the camp, the former Borei Keila residents had already been living there for 5 days – ever since their homes were bulldozed to make way for commercial development.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. In 2003, a construction company called Phanimex entered into a land sharing agreement for Borei Keila. Phanimex would receive part of the land for its project, and use the rest to build 10 apartment buildings to house the residents it would displace. At the time, it was seen as an ideal model for onsite upgrading, but in 2010, the company halted construction after 8 buildings. At least 300 families were left living onsite, meaning they were still in the way of Phanimex’s ongoing development project. The solution? Demolish and displace.

It’s the same story throughout Phnom Penh and throughout the country – homes, rivers, lakes and livelihoods being lost to concrete and progress.

Above and beyond the eyesore of the development driven destruction (and reconstruction – uninspired highrise monstrosities are devastating the Phnom Penh skyline), it is the way in which the government, police and company officials are handling the situation that is shocking. Back in September I spoke with Suong Sophoan after he was beaten unconscious by police for trying to stop a demolition at Boeung Kak Lake. He filed a complaint with the Phnom Penh court, but the act went unpunished.

In the case of the demolition in Borei Keila on January 3, more than 100 security officials used tear gas and rubber bullets to finish the job. Amnesty International reported more than 64 people injured, and at least 8 arrested and detained. On January 11th, when former residents gathered to protest the act, 24 women and 6 children were arrested and shipped to Prey Speu Social Affairs Center in Phnom Penh. NGOs are not allowed inside.

In the face of such violent retribution, it is understandable that so many of the affected are unwilling to speak out about what is happening here.

After visiting the displacement site at Oudong, I spoke with Sia Phearum. He is the Director of the Housing Rights Task Force, a network of Cambodian and international NGOs working on the issue of forced evictions in Cambodia. When I arrived at his office, displaced members of the Borei Keila community were huddled on the floor of a room where they were receiving legal advice on how to file a complaint to the local court. But how effective is a complaint if made to officials complicit in the abuse of law?

“All the Cambodian people, civil society organizations, and international community know that the Cambodian courts are useless, but we have to try,” Phearum said. “Otherwise they just let it go … we want to improve justice, to improve the court system here.”

Phearum’s plan is to exhaust all the local mechanisms, in hopes that the complaint can one day reach the International Criminal Court. “We know it’s very far and difficult,” he said, “but this is a criminal act.”

I asked Phearum why there seemed to be so little assistance for the displaced residents at the camp at Oudong – why they had no toilets, no mosquito nets, no help. Where were all the NGOs? Phearum said that providing assistance to the evicted was analogous to providing assistance to the evictors.

“The government says, don’t worry, when you move to the relocation site, there are many NGOs waiting to help you, to give you rice, to give you shelter. They use this strategy to evict people. So we discussed and decided, not now.”

Instead, the assistance is being focused toward those who are struggling to demand justice. On top of filing legal complaints locally, the former residents have submitted petitions to the US, French, and British embassies in hope of gaining international support.

“The international community … they need to pressure, to give an urgent call for a meeting to solve this problem,” Phearum said.

Until then, forcibly evicted residents like Ousa remain in limbo, with little help from the government or company who put them there or even the NGOs who want to get them out.

More photos from the camp are below:

In 2010, I traveled to South Sudan to work with local journalists in a country where civil war is expected and where speech is far from free. Almost everyone tried to talk me out of it. They told me it was too dangerous and that I would never recover from what I would see there. What I found was something different.

I’ll never forget the feeling as my plane first descended onto South Sudan’s capital, Juba. Scribbling in my notebook, I wanted desperately to describe the moment – the miles of untouched green landscape abruptly broken by a dusty city of thatched and metal rooftops. Instead, my notes were little more than a slew of nervous profanities demanding to know what the hell I’d gotten myself into. The only coherent phrase came from earlier that day, “If everyone is too scared to find out, how will we ever know?” 

The photographs in this exhibition are snapshots from a journey through some of the most remote communities in South Sudan, taken throughout the year leading up to its independence. They were taken during a long walk to the market on Leer’s cracked earth, during a dance party in Kurmuk, or while biking under a Nuba Mountain sunset. They were taken on a trip through Malualkon market, where a woman selling okra delighted in her photograph, then asked how I would use it to help her. 

It seems as though so much of what we see in the news about African and Middle Eastern countries only depicts conflict, poverty or disease – likely topped off with a dusty photo of angry protesters or armed rebels on the move. But there’s so much more to it. There are rich, diverse cultures and people. I hope that these photographs show another part of the story – the faces, landscapes, music and colors that survive beneath war.

Ang Nua farms to make a living, despite losing his leg in a landmine accident. © Heather Stilwell 2011.

INTRO: During nearly 3 decades of armed conflict, the Khmer Rouge, as well as the Vietnamese and Cambodian Armed Forces, laid an estimated 4 to 6 million landmines throughout Cambodia.

The country is now at peace but the casualties continue.

In 2010 alone, landmines in Cambodia injured a reported 215 civilians. 71 were killed.

The mines are concentrated in the rural and mainly poor Northwest of the country, and are a violent barrier to farming.

Heather Stilwell reports from Chisang Village in Battambang Province.

It should have been like any other day. Ang Nua left his home one morning in Chisang Village, Battambang Province, and he walked into the forest.

But Nua stepped on a landmine. It exploded, and destroyed his leg from the knee down. Villagers carried him from the forest as blood poured from his body. He survived, but today he lives as an amputee.

“Now that I’ve lost my leg, life is very different. It is so hard to go places and there is so much I can’t do. Before I could support my family, but now I must rely on my wife.”

Nua’s story is not uncommon. In Chisang Village of less than 300 families, 14 people are amputees because of landmine accidents.

The group Mines Advisory Group (MAG) has been demining this area since 1997. They have removed more than 1000 anti-personnel mines and unexploded ordnances in the area.

Horn Ruom is the Village Chief.

“Before the clearance began, the people living in Chisang village were unhappy. They could not do so many things because the village was so contaminated. After MAG came to clear the mines, the people feel free and happier, but they are still concerned because mine clearance is not finished yet.”

Overlooking a field behind the village pagoda, a red sign reads, “Danger! Mines!” This area has not been cleared, but villagers continue to harvest their crops here, despite the risk. They are desperate to make a living.

MAG Country Director, Alistair Moir, says that demining is crucial to community development.

“When it comes to landmine clearance it really is the first step in the rest of the lives of the community who are then going to move on to the land.”

Once a piece of land is cleared, it can be used safely for agriculture and much-needed community projects like microfinance or water and sanitation.

When the team finds a mine, they dig the explosives out on their hands and knees, so it can be defused or safely destroyed. For Cambodian deminer, Koyn Visal, this work is especially difficult, because Koyn is also an amputee. He lost his leg as a soldier in the Cambodian Armed Forces in 1994. He wears a specially designed metal-free prosthetic so it won’t interfere with mine detection. Despite difficulties, Koyn says the work is worth it.

“I was so angry about the landmines. I don’t want to see other people have accidents like me. I want to work until Cambodia is fully cleared.”

MAG’s Alistair Moir says that the job is far from finished.

“The difficulty we face in Cambodia is that some of these landmines were laid over 20 years ago, so there is a vast amount of vegetation on the land because, literally, nature has had 20 years to take root. Before we can even go in and clear one land mine we have to do a massive amount of scrub cutting, which is a very technical, slow, time consuming and ultimately costly exercise.”

More than 20 million dollars has already been spent on demining Camodia. But according to a survey that’s being carried out jointly by MAG there is still 700 square kilometers of mine-contaminated land in Cambodia. The figure is expected to rise as the survey continues next year.

But landmines are not just a Cambodian problem. The Antipersonnel Mine Ban Treaty, also known as the Ottawa Treaty, is an international agreement that aims to eliminate the use of landmines worldwide. Cambodia ratified in 2009, but the United States, Russia, and China have not signed the Treaty. Mines produced in each of these three countries are still being unearthed in Cambodia.

Originally aired on Asia Calling, December 24, 2011

Doung Khea lives under a tarp after being evicted from his Boeung Kak Lake home. Photo by Heather Stilwell.

INTRO: After intense pressure from the World Bank, the Cambodian government granted a small plot of land to a thousand families facing eviction from a lake in the center of the capital.

The residents have been fighting a long battle with a government-linked development company that wants the land to build luxury housing.

Already more than 3,000 families have lost their homes and another 100 were excluded from the lastest deal.

Demolition of their homes continues and violence against activists is escalating.

Heather Stilwell reports from Phnom Penh.

On Sept 16, demolition men arrived in tractors to destroy eight of the homes excluded from the Boeung Kak Lake land deal.

Lake activist Suong Sophoan stood between them.

“I was born in Boeung Kak, so I must protect my place and these people. I stood in front of the tractors to stop them and to solve this problem with peaceful non-violence. At the same time, I tell them that if you want to destroy these houses, you must destroy me first.”

Police kicked him and beat him with guns. They left him on the ground, unconscious and bloody. Then they destroyed the homes.

Doung Khea lived at the lake for 12 years before the demolition.

He now lives under a blue tarp that reads, “Where is my house?”

Since being evicted, he has reported hearing gunshots at the lake in the evening. He says he and other activists live in fear.

“I am more afraid from day to day. We are worried about the safety in our living places and we always think ‘how can we live with this situation?’ I always see the people who work for Shukaku Inc. driving with guns around the Boeung Kak Lake in order to make villagers or protestors feels scared to stop the activities. Mostly, I feel worried about dying by their gun.”

More than 3000 families have been evicted since 2007, when company Shukaku Inc. received a 99-year lease for commercial development of the area.

Shukaku Inc. is run by Cambodian People’s Party Senator Lao Meny Khin.

Director of the Human Rights Task Force, Mr. Sia Phearum, says widespread government corruption allows the development project to continue.

“We can see that in this country it’s called rule of law, but just on paper. In reality, we found that it seems to be the rule of man, corruption in the courts, injustice, and human rights violations. It is the government who always violates the people’s rights.”

Earlier this month, the eight evicted families filed a complaint with the Phnom Penh Municipal Court, seeking around 20 thousand US dollars in compensation from the company, the deputy governor of Daun Penh district and two police officials.

The authorities responded by charging five residents with “insulting” and “intimidating” the officials.

Under the Cambodian Penal Code, conviction would mean a sentence of at least two years.

Phearum says this is typical of the way the Cambodian court system exerts control.

“The court is never effective for the poor or for the less powerful. They just stand with the powerful and the rich. And sometimes they just keep the complaint quiet. You can see that the rich and the powerful, it’s easy to ask for the court to do whatever they want. The poor, the less powerful cannot.”

Still, residents and activists refuse to back down.

Even after his beating, Sopoan says he will never stop fighting for the lake residents.

“Sometimes, they try to force me to stop my activities helping villagers, but I say I won’t stop unless you stop harming people and you start respecting the law. But if you still do the same thing, I will sacrifice my life to protect the villagers who live in Boeung Kak.”

Originally aired on Asia Calling, October 14, 2011

During nearly three decades of conflict, an estimated 4 to 6 million landmines were laid in Cambodia since 1970. War has ended, but its remnants are hidden underground, lurking in soil that is desperately needed for development. Landmines, cluster munitions, air-dropped bombs and other unexploded ordnance (UXO) pose a violent threat to rural Cambodians, killing more than 27,000 since 1992.

Chisang Village in Cambodia’s Battambang Province was an intermittent battlefield for war from 1970 until 1996. Landmines laid during that time by the Khmer Rouge, Vietnamese and Cambodian Armed Forces are still found scattered throughout the village today. Fourteen community members are amputees.

Mines Advisory Group (MAG) leads a team of demining specialists who aim to clear Chisang Village of explosives and return the land so it can benefit the community.

Below are photos from a day in Chisang.