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SIEM REAP: Stacking a ladder against the towers of Cambodia’s archaeological wonder Angkor Wat, Chhoeurm Try carefully scales the temple’s exterior to cut through the foliage before it damages the ancient facade.
The 50-year-old is part of an excellent team of gardeners who ensure that the kingdom’s most valuable heritage site is not strangled by saplings sprouting from cracks in the sandstone.
For two decades, Chhoeurm Try has made treacherous barefoot climbs to the central tower of Angkor Wat, which rises 65m above the archaeological complex in the northern city of Siem Reap.
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“If we make a mistake, we will not survive,” he told AFP after returning to land.
But keep going, aware that the fight to end the hard roots is a constant battle against nature.
“When young trees grow, their roots deepen and cause the stones to fall over,” he says.
Preserving the dozens of temples in the Angkor Archaeological Park is a delicate year-round job undertaken by the 30-member team.
The world heritage site contains monuments dating from the 9th to 15th centuries, and was Cambodia’s most popular tourist destination before the coronavirus pandemic took over world travel.
“We love and want to preserve temples,” says Chhoeurm Try. “If we don’t preserve them … the younger generation would not have a chance to see them.”
NO SAFETY EQUIPMENT
With only blue helmets as their sole security measure, the gardening team is used to doing their tasks under the gaze of visiting tourists.
“When local and international tourists see us climb the temples, they are scared and think there is a lack of technique,” says team leader Ngin Thy.
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But the use of ropes or climbing gear is out of the question, as it could damage fragile stone work, while scaffolding would take weeks to build and tear down.
“Instead, it could cause problems for them,” Ngin Thy tells AFP. “It is safer for them to carry a pair of scissors and go straight to the saplings.”
There are also narrow sections in certain temples that require workers to crawl around, navigating around protruding sculptures while trying not to come into unnecessary contact with the friezes.
“In brick temples, the work is even more difficult,” says Chhourm Try, recounting an incident that nearly failed a few years ago when a brick fell on his head and broke his helmet in two.
A handful of local tourists and Buddhist monks gaze in awe at the gardeners’ teamwork.
“They are so brave,” says tourist Roth Veasna, holding his breath as he watches a worker climb a ladder as his colleagues hold on tight.
UNTAMED ONCE, MANICURED NOW
Leaving the temples uncared for could bring back the vision that French naturalist and explorer Henri Mouhot had found in the 1860s when he stumbled upon the site.
It had been abandoned for centuries, its old stonework and sculptures hidden under the jungle vegetation.
“It is grander than anything Greece or Rome has left us,” Mouhot wrote in his travel diaries, which helped popularize it in the West as an important archaeological site.
Today, officials from the Apsara Authority, a government body that manages the park, say they are looking for a liquid substance to suppress root growth, in order to lessen the risks for gardeners.
But “we have to experiment first because we are concerned that it may also damage the stones when we pour them into the roots,” says Deputy Director Kim Sothin.
“If we could use it, we would reduce its burden.”
Until then, it is up to nimble gardeners to maintain Angkor Wat’s grandeur.
“Other people don’t want to do this job because it’s risky,” says Oeurm Amatak, a 21-year-old who joined the team a year ago.
As an apprentice, he still doesn’t dare to scale all the temples and his skill set is developing under the mentorship of his more experienced colleagues.
“You really have to love it, it’s not for everyone,” he says.