UXO Cambodia: Unexploded Ordnance Legacy and Clearance Efforts

When you hear UXO Cambodia, unexploded ordnance left behind from decades of conflict in Cambodia. Also known as unexploded bombs and shells, these hidden devices still kill and maim people every week—mostly farmers, children, and villagers going about their daily lives. Over 40,000 Cambodians have lost limbs since the war ended, and an estimated 4 to 6 million landmines and other explosives remain buried across the country. This isn’t ancient history. It’s today’s reality in villages where kids play near rice fields that could still explode.

The fight against land mines Cambodia, buried explosive devices designed to detonate under pressure or movement is led by groups like CMAC, the Cambodian Mine Action Center, the national authority coordinating clearance operations. They don’t just use metal detectors anymore. Teams now train APOPO HeroRATs, giant African pouched rats trained to sniff out TNT in soil. These rats are faster, cheaper, and more accurate than machines in dense terrain. Meanwhile, AI is being used to predict where bombs are most likely buried, based on old military maps and satellite data. But money runs short. Clearance teams can’t keep up without more international funding.

What makes UXO Cambodia different from other post-war zones is how deeply it’s woven into daily life. You won’t find signs saying "Danger: Minefield" everywhere. Instead, locals learn through generations: don’t dig here, don’t walk that path, don’t pick up strange metal objects. The scars are visible—not just in missing limbs, but in abandoned farmland, broken families, and villages that never rebuilt because the ground wasn’t safe. This isn’t just about removing bombs. It’s about restoring trust in the land itself.

What follows is a collection of real stories, tools, and breakthroughs from the frontlines of clearance efforts. You’ll find how technology is changing the game, why some areas remain untouched, and what it truly means to live with invisible danger. These aren’t abstract reports—they’re accounts from people walking the same ground where bombs still wait.