Cambodia Fire: The True Story of One's Man's Solo Mission to Help Put out the Fires in Cambodia from His Home Half-Way Around the World.

By Doug Mendel and Mark Palz

On the morning of April 8, 2006, a pale green, twenty-eight-foot-long, 1976 FireMaster fire truckEngine 633drove away from a port in Sihanoukville, Cambodia, after traveling some 8,500 miles from Colorados Rocky Mountains. It had just cleared customs and was en route to a small fire station six kilometers away.

Just two years before that, Captain Sok, Sihanoukvilles fire chief, told author Douglas Mendel that his town was in need of a new fire truck. Mendel made it happen. In Cambodia Fire, Mendel shares the story of how he came to visit Cambodia, how it changed his life and the lives of numerous Cambodian people, and how he began his journey to help them with firetrucks, supplies, and gear to make their lives safer and better.

This memoir tells how the delivery of the fire truck was only one of dozens of projects and years of work in connection with the Douglas Mendel Cambodian Relief Fund. Cambodia Fire narrates how the country of Cambodia and its warm, loving people have shaped the last seventeen years of Mendels life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781491768068

Doug Mendel

Douglas Mendel has worked with the Douglas Mendel Cambodian Relief Fund for more than a decade. His first visit to Cambodia was in June of 1997 and was the catalyst for falling in love with the Cambodian people. Mendel lives in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. Visit him online at www.dougmendel.com.

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Copyright © 2016 Doug Mendel, Mark Palz.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4917-6805-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-6807-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-6806-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015907918

iUniverse rev. date: 02/22/2016

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Preface: A Welcome Delivery

Chapter 1: Cambodia Beckoned Again and Again

Chapter 2: A Brief History of Cambodia

Chapter 3: Growing Up

Chapter 4: My First Visit to Sihanoukville

Chapter 5: Robbed

Chapter 6: Living on the Edge

Chapter 7: Other Fire Stations Beckoned

Chapter 8: M’lop Tapang

Chapter 9: Moral Support and Friendship

Chapter 10: A Less Than Modest Proposal

Chapter 11: Shipping the Truck

Chapter 12: A Homegrown Fire Truck for Ban Lung

Chapter 13: Making Amends

Chapter 14: A Humbling Education in Educating

Chapter 15: Late-Night Reflections

Chapter 16: The Talented Mr. B

Chapter 17: Setbacks as Opportunities for Growth

Chapter 18: Time with Kanal

Chapter 19: Reflections

Photo gallery

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book has been a labor of love, frustration, patience, learning, and wanting to share my personal journey. It began with traveling to Cambodia in June 1997 for a few days and falling in love with the people and culture in a way that compelled me to try to make a difference in the lives of the Cambodian people and myself. Other than that, there is no greater gift.

I would like to extend an immense amount of gratitude to Mark Palz, who delved deeply into my experiences, adventures, and life to help me find the words while I poured my heart and soul into Cambodia. During numerous meetings and interviews, Mark helped me write the book you have before you. Thank you to my dear friends Mr. Kanal, Seth, Savet, Mr. Sok, Mr. Mork Han, and other Khmer friends who have been like family to me each time I’ve visited Cambodia. Without their generosity, time, and their caring for me and my endeavors, the amazing experiences and journeys I had would never have happened. I cherish having been invited into their lives. My love for the Cambodian people is immense, and I thank them for allowing me to enter into their hearts and become like family with them. Swakuum!

I’d like to say thanks to my brother, David, my mom, Stephanie, and her sister, Rona, for being a sounding board in 2004/2005 with questions on attaining nonprofit status. Their patience, love, care, and time are forever appreciated. I am grateful to both of my parents for instilling in me a sense of travel, to follow my heart, and to be a steadfast supporter in mind and spirit.

The early stages of funding came from the hundreds of people who purchased handicrafts at the many venues in Summit County, Colorado, where I sold beautiful Cambodian purses, scarves, jewelry boxes, tablecloths, and other items. Thank you Summit County for the tremendous ongoing support.

A special thank you to Keith McMillan for taking an interest in my endeavors early on in the project. Keith was instrumental in acquiring Engine 633 from Red, White & Blue Fire Rescue in Breckenridge, Colorado, and its subsequent donation to The Douglas Mendel Cambodian Relief Fund. Much appreciation goes to Mike and Cheryl Rutherford for joining me on my 2006 trip to Cambodia, and who along with Keith trained the firefighters in Sihanoukville on the operation of Engine 633.

My friend Megan receives much praise for being there for me with support, patience, and love during the beginnings of the endeavors to help the Cambodian people. Without her unwavering support during the many trips, and even with my own passion, these goals would never have been met.

I would like to thank the Summit Daily News and KYSL 93.9 for their dedicated media coverage through the years, as well as to the many other media outlets that have covered the story of my endeavors helping the Cambodian people.

A heartfelt debt of gratitude goes to David and Patti Welch at Foodhedz (www.foodhedzcafe.com) in Frisco, Colorado, for their hosting many fundraisers. To the fire stations of Lake Dillon Fire Authority, Red, White & Blue Fire Rescue, Copper Mountain, Heeney, Eagle-Vail, and those other stations that contributed in any way, thank you very much for the many items of donated bunker gear, which allowed the firefighters in Cambodia to be better protected when fighting fires.

To the many businesses in Summit County, Colorado, that have donated silent auction items for the many fundraisers, thank you. To anyone that I have not mentioned by name, please know that all your support has been greatly appreciated over the years.

PREFACE

A WELCOME DELIVERY

On the morning of April 8, 2006, a pale green, twenty-eight-foot-long, 1976 FireMaster fire truck—Engine 633—drove away from a port in Sihanoukville, Cambodia, after traveling some 8,500 miles from Colorado’s Rocky Mountains. It had just cleared customs and was en route to a small fire station some six kilometers away. Sihanoukville, a small seaside city in the Sihanoukville Province, is home to just under three hundred thousand inhabitants and is the largest port city in Cambodia. I had visited many times over the previous years and always found the nearby waters of the Gulf of Thailand rejuvenating. It is known as a beach resort town to tourists and a fishing village to locals. It was also a town in need of a new fire truck. Captain Sok, who ran the small fire station on the edge of town, was anxiously awaiting the delivery.

Captain Sok was one of my favorite fire chiefs I had met in Cambodia. He was a small portly man with perfect teeth and a great smile. He would use any excuse to raise a glass of cold beer with me. I had asked him several times in the past what his fire station could use, and had come through with several items, but he had never stated such a substantial need so definitively.

We had been standing in the sparsely decorated small office of the Sihanoukville fire station. The room was bare, with several cheap plastic chairs surrounding an old desk, and a simple calendar hanging from the wall. The conversation was equally spare, as we talked superficially about our personal lives. We may have been watching the other firefighters play volleyball in the gravel lot, or perhaps we were staring off into the distance while we talked, as the heat is likely to make one appear deeper in thought than is normal. I only vaguely remember him saying, I need a fire truck, Doug.

He did not seem to be joking. His expression did not change. Rather, he just looked at the bay where an old Korean fire truck sat beneath the corrugated-metal canopy. Grass had begun to grow around the bases of tires, each of which appeared to be low on air.

I didn’t know how to respond at first. I had thought the Cambodian government allotted at least some funding for items like fire trucks and maintenance, but I realized that most of the money was lost in bureaucratic red tape and corruption. Local firemen were left to scavenge what they could and deal with their own consciences when inadequate equipment went up against all-consuming fires. I wondered why Phnom Penh did not have a procedure for distributing fire trucks to districts or why no government institution, such as the Ministry of the Interior, was committed to keeping fire stations in working order. Procuring an actual fire truck seemed remotely possible, but I was almost illogically hopeful.

I only hesitated for a moment, then without knowing exactly what I was promising, I said, Captain Sok, give me two years, and I’ll have a fire truck for you. As soon as the words left my mouth, I believed I could get it done. I somewhat arbitrarily picked the window of two years out of the air, but for some reason it seemed plausible. Captain Sok smiled, and for the moment, we left it at that. We returned to our light conversation.

Even when the idea sunk in, I didn’t think it was an impossible task. I had occasional doubts, but for the most part, I saw only the goal and the deadline. I worked on the project when I could. I had no idea where to begin or how I would ever procure and deliver anything of such magnitude, but at no time did it seem truly impossible.

Two years later, while Engine 633 was being driven to the fire station in Cambodia, I was on the other side of the world, at my home in Summit County, Colorado, waiting eagerly for word about the truck. I was in Sihanoukville in what felt like more than spirit, as I hoped that the two years of work—more than $18,000 worth of time, donations, and services—that had led up to this moment would pay off. The truck’s safe arrival had been plaguing my dreams for weeks.

I had personally planned every mile of the trip, down to the most miniscule detail, and was eager to hear from Captain Sok. I would not arrive in the country for seven days, so when I heard that the truck had indeed arrived, I was more than relieved—I was ecstatic. Now I could put behind me years of questioning whether my nonprofit, The Douglas Mendel Cambodian Relief Fund, would generate something truly epic. My devotion had finally paid off.

I imagined that after the six-kilometer drive, the truck pulled up to the small brick fire station and crept into the gravel driveway before any of the thirteen firefighters knew it was there. I imagined them stepping out into the impenetrable heat, shielding their eyes from the midday sun, and smiling at the vehicle that for three decades had fought fires in the High Rockies of Colorado, where it had belonged to the Red, White and Blue Fire Rescue in Breckenridge. The ten-ton truck with a five-hundred-gallon tank would help Sihanoukville’s tiny fire station’s meager arsenal combat the fires that devastated the local community and, in some cases, wiped out entire neighborhoods before a single firefighter could arrive on the scene. I was saddened that I couldn’t deliver the fire truck personally, but the logistics were just too complicated and expensive to have me along for the entire trip.

I had been a volunteer firefighter, and when I traveled, I inevitably saw the world through the keen eyes of someone sensitive to fire safety. The greatest way I could help places in need was to establish connections with the local firefighting communities. Eventually, after experimenting with education, fire awareness, and equipment donations, my attention focused primarily on helping underequipped fire stations.

The fire truck was one of many items I sent from the Colorado mountains to the Cambodian people. My overwhelming desire to send equipment consumed me to such a point I often returned twice a year, delivering many of the goods myself. My obsession with assisting the Cambodian people shaped the last seventeen years of my life, and helped me grow in ways that I won’t understand for years to come.

It was in 2004 when I had been in Sihanoukville, as was my custom when I visited Cambodia, that I stopped in to see Captain Sok and the other firefighters. I already had strong relationships with many people in Cambodia and had delivered boxes of donated goods to the local fire station in the past. It had come to my attention that Cambodians were in need of many of the amenities that I took for granted. Even before the fire truck, I had been delivering firefighting gear and hygiene products for years. These were the items that I could most easily acquire, but Cambodia was in need of much more. Captain Sok’s request was concrete evidence of this.

Everywhere I visited, I noticed conditions that could have been safer, healthier, or more practically assessed. I had seen poverty before, but the deplorable poverty of Cambodia’s rural areas made me acutely aware of the country’s multiple worlds. Like much of the third world, the disparity between the ultrarich and the abject poor was glaring, but the diversity is what caught me off guard. In a way, each province was its own country with its own unique set of problems, but the lack of standard firefighting equipment was one common theme that I noticed immediately. Although the people often didn’t yearn for much materialistically, they still desired, like anyone would, a certain blanket of safety regarding their families, homes, and businesses. Some houses were little more than corrugated-metal roofs and mud-brick walls, but that didn’t mean that the homes were not important to their owners. Often, aside from a mattress, some sheets, and a small gas stove, the house was all they had.

Though Cambodia exists in a tropical climate, even the lack of potable water was a pervasive issue. Many of the roads were rough and poorly maintained, and citizens had to travel hours to the nearest city to get medical attention of any kind. Random accidental fires often got out of control, and although the damages, in monetary terms, probably amounted to little, in terms of belongings the cost was incalculable. A single fire, left to burn for an hour, could decimate the lives of more than a thousand people, leaving them with nothing but the clothes they were wearing when they fled the conflagration.

Stories about fires that destroyed whole villages and neighborhoods made me start looking for ways to help. I asked questions about what was needed, from the perspective of a small-town volunteer firefighter. I had a compelling desire to fill in gaps in education and equipment wherever I could.

The first powerful answer came from Captain Sok during that conversation in 2004. Without much thought, I promised him a truck within two years, and somehow I came through with Engine 633 within that time.

The engine would not be the end of my work, but rather I would continue on in similar veins for eight more years. Some projects would turn out to be quite remarkable, while others were humble in comparison. What matters most is that the nonprofit was able to generate enough money over the years to continue its work and, in my eyes at least, create a safer environment for the Cambodian people.

I met dozens of people along the way, and will not be able to mention them all here, but I am grateful for every helping hand and every novel idea that was offered to me over the years. Those that supported me financially and emotionally helped, in a very direct way, many communities in Cambodia. I will be grateful for that support for the entirety of my life.

The delivery of the fire truck was only one of dozens of projects and years of work regarding the relief fund. It was one of the culminating moments, and one of the most vindicating, for the time and energy I had put in. The years leading up to, and the years after, have accumulated into some of the greatest experiences of my life.

CHAPTER 1

CAMBODIA BECKONED AGAIN AND AGAIN

I have traveled around the world since 1981 and have fallen in and out of love with many cultures. I have been captivated by the pristine, photogenic landscapes of Lithuania and the Baltic region—the lakeside castles, rolling hills, dark forests, the kindness of the people. I loved my month in Senegal, the loud streets and markets, the way they demanded my attention amidst the chaos. I have great memories of my time in Japan, Guatemala, Honduras, Nepal, Norway, and so many other countries. Yet none called me back with the intensity that Cambodia did. Something about the images and emotions that surround Southeast Asia remained and resonated with me long after I left the region. Cambodia, in particular, held my thoughts the way an intense yearning for home might. There was something wondrously captivating about the culture and the great magnanimity of a people, multiple generations of whom have been so devastated by tragedy that it is hard to imagine peace ever flourishing again.

I had begun traveling at a young age, and by the time I was thirty I had been to almost forty countries, including several in Southeast Asia. I gained many of the typical traveler experiences as I backpacked through parts of Europe, Africa, Nepal, and Tibet. One would have thought that I should have witnessed something universal in every community, that every country would gain my affinity. It would have been hard when I was younger to believe that a single country would enthrall me in a way that compelled me to return again and again.

The question that arises most frequently when I speak about my travels is, Why Cambodia? There is no easy answer. I cannot easily or succinctly convey all the reasons Cambodia seduced my soul. Although I encountered abject poverty and profound social strife in many of the countries I visited, I constantly returned to Cambodia in my mind. Whenever I returned to my Colorado hometown, I found peace in the memories of Cambodia. It was where my mind went to escape, and for a time, it was where I thought I belonged.

I was certainly in love with the landscape—the lush jungle foliage, open rice patties, the dark mud color of the Mekong Delta’s tributaries. Everything was fresh and new. The greens, of a rich palette I had not known existed, varied with the changing light of the sun. Watching the distant jungle could be like watching a sunset, each color combination changing as quickly as the clouds above, catching the same rays of the last of evening light. My senses were in love with the country. The aromas carried by the humid breeze were intoxicating, although I did not welcome the exhaust on the busy roads or the garbage littering the backstreets. I was in love with the energy. The noise of the streets and