San Francisco Frontiers - Thais and Cambodians refuse to quit homes on clash frontier

"At 5:00am every day, I hear the loud bangs and booms. Then I run into the woods for cover," the 53-year-old told AFP in the village of Baan Bu An Nong in Surin province, just 40 kilometres (25 miles) from the fraught frontier.

His family of five fled to the capital Bangkok on the first day of clashes on Thursday, but he remains behind with their flock of chickens, three dogs and 14 prized buffalo.

"How could I leave these buffaloes?" he asked, his eyes brimming with emotion.

"I'd be so worried about them. After the strikes I go and console them, telling them 'It's okay. We're together'."

Thailand and Cambodia's clashes have entered their fourth day after a festering dispute over sacred temples ignited into cross-border combat being waged with jets, tanks and group troops.

Peace talks between leaders are scheduled for Monday in Malaysia, the Thai government has said.

In the meantime, at least 34 people have been killed on both sides, mostly civilians, and more than 200,000 have fled their homes along the 800-kilometre border -- a rural area patched with rubber and rice farms.

But on both sides of the tree-clad ridge marking the boundary between the two countries there are many who refuse to evacuate.

As nearby blasts shake Cambodian restauranteur Soeung Chhivling's eaterie she continues to prepare a beef dish, declining to abandon the kitchen where she cooks for troops and medics mobilised to fight Thailand.

"I am also scared, but I want to cook so they have something to eat," said the 48-year-old, near a hospital where wounded civilians and troops are being treated.

"I have no plan to evacuate unless jets drop a lot of bombs," she told AFP in Samraong city, just 20 kilometres from the Thai frontier, where most homes and shops are already deserted.

- 'I'd rather die at home' -

Back on the Thai side, Pranee Ra-ngabpai, a researcher on Thai-Cambodian border issues and a local resident, said many who have chosen to stay behind -- like her own father -- are men who hold traditional and stoic values.

"He is still there in the house right now and refuses to leave," Pranee said. "There's this mindset: 'If I die, I'd rather die at home' or 'I can't leave my cows'."

Baan Bu An Nong has been designated a "red zone" -- meaning it is high risk for air strikes, artillery barrages and even gun battles between ground troops.

But village co-leader Keng Pitonam, 55, is also reluctant to depart. Loading grass onto his three-wheeled cart to feed his livestock, he is now responsible for dozens of neighbours' animals as well as their homes.

"I have to stay -- it's my duty," Keng told AFP.

"I'm not afraid. I can't abandon my responsibilities," he said.

"If someone like me -- a leader -- leaves the village, what would that say? I have to be here to serve the community, no matter what happens."

His local temple has become a makeshift donation and rescue hub, parked with ambulances inside its perimeter.

"I have to stay -- to be a spiritual anchor for those who remain," said the abbot, declining to give his name. "Whatever happens, happens."

Huddled in a bunker just 10 kilometres from the border, Sutian Phiewchan spoke to AFP by phone, pausing as his words were interrupted by the crackle of gunfire.

He remained behind to fulfil his obligations as a volunteer for the local civil defence force, activated to protect the roughly 40 people still staying there.

"Everyone here is afraid and losing sleep," the 49-year-old said.

"We're doing this without pay. But it's about protecting the lives and property of the people in our village."

burs-jts/dhw

N.Wilson--SFF