Phnom Penh Post mortem

I aimed earlier this month to break a year-long silence to mark the anniversary of my release from Kerobokan, but unexpectedly got offered a consultancy job at the Phnom Penh Post as Managing Editor of their property and supplements sections.

It wasn’t particularly well-paid, but I welcomed the opportunity to get back into a newsroom and also a more regular routine. The brief was to try knock them into shape, bring their deadlines forward, harden-up the copy and mentor an inexperienced-but keen team of Cambodians.

The Post was started in the 1990s by Michael Hayes, a friend who has long since left, and earned a reputation as a fiercely independent newspaper that was never afraid of speaking truth to power.

Two days after I started work, the post was sold by Australian mining magnate Bill Clough to a Malaysian public relations executive. Chaos resulted.

The Post journalists cobbled together a highly critical article about the new owner and refused to take it down when ordered. In the next three days, the entire foreign complement of staff were either sacked or resigned in protest.

From my insulated bubble across the room in the property and supplements section, I felt deeply conflicted, but decided to sit out the month in loyalty to Ross Macdonald, the commercial manager who had hired me.

That week we got the Post Property section out a full 24 hours earlier than deadline and I was really pleased with the way the staff were getting stuck into their work. The rest of the paper was really struggling, however.

Showing a monumental lack of taste or judgement, the new editor put a gory picture of a local murder victim on page three — her face and wounds fully visible — and local content dwindled to a few stories by the pro-government wire service Fresh News.

Exactly three weeks into my stint, I was shown the door. “We just can’t afford you,” was the reason given.

So that has been the last three weeks, but how about the last 12 months?

Well firstly, apologies for not being a more frequent correspondent, but I really wearied of talking and writing about my situation. Whenever I met an old (or new) friend, the “saga” would inevitably become the sole topic of conversation and I was really getting sick of it. I needed the break.

I have been writing a book which looks at the experience — a memoir that uses my time in jail as a narrative arc — but that remains a work in progress.

I’m currently living in Phnom Penh thanks mostly to the use of a wonderful apartment provided by Tanya Pang. The place is really nice, but it is — quite literally — in a crack den of a building and I often have to sidestep junkies shooting up in the stairwells and corridors.

Despite the easy availability of weed in Cambodia, I’ve remained drug free since the day of my arrest and aim to stay that way — without judging those that do imbibe.

I’ve managed to pick up some freelance stuff here and there, but nothing substantial. So far I’ve done work for a construction company, a bank, a couple of websites, two golf tournaments and a company report and I’ve also applied for several full-time positions around the region, but seem to hit a hurdle when it comes to “that” topic. (If anyone hears of any potential openings or freelance suggestions, I’m all ears).

I’ve become something of an urban gardener and am producing very healthy crops of chillies, basil and tomatoes on my balcony.

By far the most rewarding thing I’ve done is sign up as a prison visitor in Cambodia. Visiting people here is a lot more complicated than it was in Bali, but every couple of months I go to the main Prey Sar prison and spend a couple of hours chatting to some of the foreign inmates there. I’ll take along a big box of supplies such as noodles, cigarettes and coffee — things I know from experience are always appreciated.

Although visitors don’t get to see much of the facility, conditions at Prey Sar make Kerobokan look like the Hilton Hotel. The only positive thing for prisoners is that sentences are fare more lenient than they were in Bali.

On that note, I was really thrilled that my lovely niece Izzy and her friend Rosie managed to get an inside look at Kerobokan when they were passing through Bali last month. Matthew Norman organized it and the girls spend the morning modeling for the prisoner art class where they proved a big hit.

I was told on being deported from Bali that I could apply to be removed from the blacklist after six months, but that is proving much more difficult than I was led to believe. Many people have asked why I’d want to go back, but basically all my worldy possessions are there (as well as my two mutts) and I feel I have unfinished business.

Anyway, this is just to let you know I am “back”, and will be writing far more frequently from now and also getting in touch with individuals more often.

Thanks for everything.