As we land on the other side of the swollen river, huge threatening thunderclouds overhead suggest bad karma. At first sight Ba Chuc is an unassuming village. The normality of it all assumes an almost eerie quality. Then I see it. A solid concrete memorial surrounded by a sea of innocent looking rice fields.
Young boys run noisily around the vicinity.
On closer inspection, the edifice is a large hexagonal glass-case. But nothing could have prepared me for the sight about to greet me. Inside are thousands upon thousands of bleached white skulls meticulously stacked on three levels. If this were not grim enough, they are neatly labelled and sorted into various age groups, each age group represented by a crude sign. Old people, aged 65-80, did not escape either.