'Even if she didn't want to have sex, she couldn't have gone anywhere'
When we meet on a quiet street away from Phnom Penh’s daytime bustle, Samnang is showing little sign of the aftereffects of an evening spent carousing at a local bar. Bright-eyed and lively, he chats eagerly about his friends’ weekend plans.

“We go dancing and looking for girls,” he says. “It’s great. I like this kind of life. I don’t ever want to get old.”

At 24, Samnang looks like many Cambodian men his age, dressed in a fitted plaid shirt and skinny jeans. Samnang is not his real name; he’s only agreed to let me record our conversation if I don’t identify him. He’s not shy, though, when asked about the first time he and his friends forced a woman to have sex.

For PRI's The World, a look at Cambodia's alarming problem of gang rape.

TV show brings together long-separated Khmer Rouge survivorsKhoem Sarom had all but given up hope. In the volatile years after the fall of Cambodia’s Khmer Rouge regime, he trudged through malaria-infested jungles on his own to search for a little girl: his missing niece.

But he found only dead ends in the tiny villages and teeming refugee camps where he looked. His young niece, his sister’s only daughter, was gone.

“I thought I would never again see my niece in this life,” Sarom said during an interview at his home in a quiet village outside Phnom Penh.

It has been almost 35 years since the Khmer Rouge collapsed, leaving behind a devastated country. Historians believe one-quarter of the population perished during the regime’s four-year rule.

The effects linger to this day. Across a recovering nation, Sarom’s story of loss is not unique. The Khmer Rouge split families apart in a ruthless bid to remake society. Though decades have passed, many families are still searching for missing loved ones, unsure if they are alive or dead.

For Sarom and others like him, a reality television programme offers a last chance to find closure after years of uncertainty.

Security forces withdraw single file after manning a barricade near Phnom Penh's Independence Monument October 23, 2013.

In Cambodia, opposition supporters (or ruling party detractors) take to the streets as part of renewed demonstrations calling for international support for an investigation into the disputed July 28 election results.

Supporters of Cambodia's opposition party protest against the results of the divisive July 28 national elections. The country has been mired in a political deadlock for weeks, with longstanding Prime Minister Hun Sen claiming victory amid allegations of widespread voter fraud.

Cambodians head to the polls for the fifth parliamentary elections since a United Nations-brokered peace deal ushered in an end to years of conflict. Amid a restrictive political climate, some Cambodians push for change, while others side with the certainty of one of the world's longest-serving leaders.

Until a few years ago, Wayan Tuges had no idea what a guitar sounded like, let alone made one from scratch. Today, his instruments can sell for thousands of dollars each. From Bali, Indonesia, the story of how a traditional wood carver and spiritual leader turned his skills into an unlikely global business crafting high-end guitars. A radio feature for PRI's The World.

Asia's looming aging dilemmaWhen Pring Am’s adult son could no longer afford to support her, the 67-year-old grandmother returned here to the tiny rural village near where she grew up.

Left with no family to rely on and no land of her own, Am felt compelled to do something she never thought she’d have to since the dark days of the Khmer Rouge: she started begging for food.

“I know it’s not good for me to ask for food with nothing to give in return,” Am says, twisting her wrinkled hands over her lap. “But I didn’t have a choice.”

This small village was linked to the national power grid for the first time only in the last year. But the progress hasn’t reached everyone.

'Today, Chinese is not just the language of business. It’s the language of politics.'When 20-year-old Suon Chiva was choosing a language to complement his native Khmer, it didn’t take him long to decide. He saw where the products in his local markets were made and where the new investments in his country were coming from. Learning to speak Chinese, he decided, made the most sense.

"Cambodia now has a lot of business people coming here from China," Chiva says. "They’re investing a lot of money. So it’s very important to speak their language."

It’s a view shared by most here in a stuffy classroom in Phnom Penh. Chiva and a dozen other students sit on wooden benches, whirling fans pushing warm air around the room, as a teacher not much older than them runs through a lesson on Mandarin tones.

The school is one of several that have popped up on the same busy road in the Cambodian capital in recent years. Brightly coloured signs splayed with Chinese script tower above the traffic.

Inside, a warren of interconnected classrooms reaches inside the aging building. Out front, employees in matching shirts hand out brochures for part-time classes, or sell textbooks to the students darting in and out.

They’re catering to young Cambodians looking for a step up in an emerging economy. For years, learning English has been a prerequisite for many Cambodians wanting to get ahead. But with China’s increasing clout and its conspicuous investments in the region, speaking Chinese has also become a valuable skill.

In Cambodia, a former soldier tries to atone for the sins of his past, while another just wants to learn to swim. They're both recruits hoping to join what would be the country's first team of underwater de-miners. A radio feature for PRI's The World.