Just over a month ago, the Cambodian authorities arrested three alleged members of Jemaah Islamiah (JI), the organisation believed to be behind last year's bomb blasts on the resort island of Bali. The arrests were a surprise, because Cambodia's small Muslim minority has no history of militancy, despite suffering terribly at the hands of the fanatical Khmer Rouge regime in the 1970s. The government also closed down an Islamic school on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, saying it had links to al-Qaeda. It turned out that a wealthy organisation called Om al-Qura, from the fundamentalist Wahabi sect in Saudi Arabia, had funded the school.
| Oh, I am so surprised! Oh, hold me, Ethel! |
Nazy Mohammad, a young Muslim activist, said the school had accepted the funding for purely economic reasons. "Most of the Muslim community are poor, so we need the aid," he said. "And among the foreign countries, Saudi Arabia and Kuwait take care of the Muslim community, so we need their assistance. But we don't know where they earn the money from," he said.
| More important is what it's spent on... |
The school aroused suspicion not only because of its size and the number of foreign teachers, but also because of the huge sums of money which it is believed to have brought in from overseas. Two Thais and an Egyptian who were working there have been arrested, and a total of 28 teachers have been expelled. But Muslim community leaders, like Ahmad Yahya, say the timing of the school's closure was suspect - coming just days before the Association of South East Asian Nations (Asean) summit in Phnom Penh, and the arrival of US Secretary of State Colin Powell. "The government has to show evidence that these people have links to Jemaah Islamiah or al-Qaeda, that they plan to attack our government," said Ahmad Yahya. "This is how the people feel."
| "They wuz all just good Muslims, mindin' their own bidnid, not hurtin' nobody. And them guns was for elk season..." |
According to local Muslims, when people from wealthy Middle Eastern countries came into their community offering money to build schools and religious institutions, they were flattered — and grateful. But the story is not that straightforward. Commune Chief Him Smam said that the villagers were divided over the school at first, fearing the Wahabi brand of Islam taught there would sit uncomfortably with their own more moderate practices. It was the central government which persuaded them to accept the school, and Prime Minister Hun Sen himself who officially opened it five years ago.
"Hey, y'all! Wanna buy a pig?"
"Yeah. Where is it?"
"Right here in this poke..." |
Clearly, that much financial investment was hard to resist. But Him Smam said the school was never that important to the community, as most of its students came from other provinces. "We always felt great respect for the teachers and the students, and we were very happy when some of our children started studying there," said Him Smam. "But very few got places there. Even among those who were enrolled, many were expelled because they could not keep up," he said. The village has now slipped back to its sleepy former existence. Horse-drawn carts ply the dirt roads, and fishermen mend their nets, waiting for the fishing season to begin again. The people seem bewildered by their sudden association with international terrorism, and even if they were not entirely sure what went on behind the school walls, local businessmen like Yusuf will miss the economic boost it gave the community. "It's bound to have a bad impact on incomes," said Yusuf. "The school used to be a good market for small businesses like mine, which sold rice or vegetables. I never saw any signs of terrorism going on there."
| "I mean, it ain't like they blew anything up around here..." |
"We can always tell who is a thief or bad person in the village — but they just came to help improve education. They weren't involved in politics as far as I could see," he said. |