T HE blood on the floor of the Wat Mohamontrey house changed from drips, to splashes,

to a pool beside a 67-year-old nun lying illuminated by two weak torch lights.

"Please help her," said one of the monks after the grenade attack.

Kim Ngneth's son, Pann Somnang, lifted his wounded mother with two monks, and bundled

her first onto a cyclo, then after into the back of a police truck that had just

arrived.

At Calmette Hospital a doctor tied a bandage around the chunk torn out from her buttock,

then she was sent back to the Wat without having been given any pain killers.

Lying on a wooden cot, Ngneth was fevered and tended only by her son and niece.

Somnang is angry that after years serving at the temple, none of the monks had helped

her since the explosion: "I would be satisfied if they gave her even one riel".

Ngneth said she had a premonition before the attack. "There were so many strangers"

and she asked them why they were there. They said they had come to ask Son Sann to

help with a land dispute "because Son Sann takes care of all of us".

She said she went inside her shack on the corner of the pagoda grounds and tried

lighting incense sticks because she was afraid they would die, but her arms were

shaking too much.

She went back outside to collect her rice mat when the grenade exploded.

"I called 'help, help, I got injured because of you... if you didn't come I

wouldn't get injured."

It is reckoned six people required hospitalization from the Wat attack.