Stephen Sumner recorre Camboya con una bicicleta ayudando a centenares de mutilados por las minas antipersona. Su método consiste en regalarles un espejo y enseñarles a hacer desaparecer el dolor del miembro fantasma. El periodista Srinath Perur le ha seguido en su última expedición. En Next os ofrecemos un resumen de su relato.
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Phantom pain, experienced in missing limbs, tortures amputees and puzzles scientists. Srinath Perur cycles round Cambodia with a man who treats it with mirrors.
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Read MoreIf you enjoyed the read, please feel free to share itWhat a hard day today…I was trapped in the folds of the world-class hospitality of the ‘NordenHouse’ outside of Banlung in Ratanakiri… in a word; way the fuck up there. I wanted to leave by 6… but breakfast starts at 7, and I’m not usually such a weakling but Neesa, the owner, and his place, are both so quiet and magical that it was flatly impossible to beat it til handy 8. And a long day ensued. From Banlung I rode thru ( I couldn’t make this up) : ‘Kaching’, then ‘Chrop’ then ‘Vealrump’ and finally got off my bike… virtually in tears (just fatigue and heat and shit) in ‘Pongmoan’. I jumped a minivan from there to Kratie, where I’m at now and from where I’ll be making the mirrors look larger than life starting at 10 am tomorrow. First I have to find the clinic. I haven’t missed yet. But it’s allll good. It’s all, in fact, super good. I’m a little sun-touched – my whole body is, in fact, scorching – it was soooo hot today. I was writing a twee travelogue while riding the bike … and the first 40 kms woulda made anyone come with anybike whatsoever; the riding was so peasy and so sugar-sweet… then I enjoyed a shortlived descent onto a sunblasted lower plateau, where I was doomed to pedal out my time in this trough of mortal error. By now it was reaching 11 and the sun was a spear. I reached for my empty water bottle around 3 kms into a stretch that proved to be 50 kms long of unremitting burned-out brush-land. I’ve often ridiculed westerners for their obsession with fucking water bottles, on the strong and demonstrable precept that clean bottled water is never more than, say, 300 meters away, in Cambodia. And til today that was always the case, so I’ve done a lot of chortling. But today I ate shit. For a teeny country, Cambodia has a lion’s share of desperately long smoking hot windblown and dispiriting sections of melting tarmac. I feel I felt all of them today. In such an itty-bitty country, how is...
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