Adrian: off the road and the beaten track

I am tired but restless tonight. Each day has been melting into the other and time has been flowing slowly connecting experiences, emotions, images, thoughts and people. It feels like I have lived in Siem Reap for a long long time. I am attached to my friends.  I feel connected to the locals. They no longer treat me as a sighting. I have adapted so well that they don’t chase me up to offer me tuk tuk lifts or sell me things in the same frequency. I don’t feel, and perhaps this is why I don’t seem, lost. Tonight, I have done the maths and I realise am leaving on Saturday, in just one and a half days. My departure is impending.

I jump on a green bicycle today and head to Matt’s Chilli bar. Matt is a friendly Aussie who runs a bar along the river 10 minutes away from my hostel on the bike. I was attracted to the bar by its beautiful outdoor riverside area with a swing. A few nights ago Matt joined me for a chat as I was enjoying an quiet evening on the swing. Inside the bar I met Annie, Tammy and Eda. Annie has lived in Cmabodia for 10 years and runs a language school and Tammy and Eda work here as English teachers. Annie I have not written much about but I do hope she keeps in touch with me because she is just so interesting.  Tonight I am back to leave Annie my ….marmite jar. Here I said it: I admit I am aaddicted to Marmite and brought it along with me. In my defense this is because some internet forum entries had convinced me that Marmite, which is high in vitamin B, is an effective mosquito repellent (when eaten and not applied to the skin). Soon I find that DEET is the only effective mosquito repellent for me. Annie is gagging for marmite so I think it best to pass the wonderful substance from one marmite junky to another.

But Annie is not around tonight, the bar is heaving  and is unrecognisable. It is mainly a group of 30 jolly men that fill the bar with laughter. They are not aggressive and drunk, just full of energy.

I almost regret getting a beer and sitting at my favourite spot , when about ten of them  come and sit at a table next to me. Have I become a recluse, a hermit and a snob of western crowds? As I observe them swiftly, I think ‘What an odd ensemble on different nationalities and ages?’.   The one closest to me introduces himself and starts chatting away.

Adrian and the boys are an ‘off road bikers’ group. The got together in Phnom Penh and biked around the country through to Siem Reap. Most of them don’t know each other. They book similar journeys at least once a year and travel through countries for 2 -3 or more weeks. There is a Welsh lad who waives excitedly when he hears I live in Cardiff. I mainly chat to Adrian about their journey. He comes to life when he talks about traveling through the countryside and the jungle not following roads and tracks, camping and sleeping in monasteries where they are welcomed by monks. He has crossed Cambodia in just over a week and will continue traveling around the rest of it for the remaining time. Tonight is their night of luxury.

I enjoy meeting people who introduce me to new ways of viewing the world. Traveling off road on a motorbike offers a different perspective and gives you much freedom from conventional routes. I would still prefer cycling through and I joke with Adrian about the group's environmental impact.

Adrian also tells me about visiting Ghana in the same manner. On that journey the group planned to stop at different schools and charities and do some hands on work. The groups are diverse in professions, skills and crafts. Some of the plumbers and electricians were deified in Africa and did essential work to schools and hospitals when they passed through.

Adrian who is down to earth and approachable seem to run a large and profitable business. He is really modest about it.  I am suddenly very tired and the rest of the group wants to head the noisy pub street near the old market. I really want to stop them from going there but then who am I am to interfere with people’s choice? I am somehow convinced that they will not last long there.  

VIllage Schools 4: Pok

Pok is witty and funny. His sense of humour (even in broken English) translates to all cultures and languages. The first time he teases me during the lesson I am taken aback. I am sincerely pleased that he is comfortable enough to be like this. There is not an ounce of disrespect in these young people, who usually really fear their teachers. Our friendly banter develops into an entertaining act for the rest of the students during each lesson. I am also impressed with Pok's connection with nature. He is a farmer in touch with his surroundings and the earth he cultivates. In some ways he is one of the most authentic and sincere environmentalists in the manner he connects to and describes his favourite places, his love of the sunrise in the open space of the rice paddies at; his respect of his livestock and what it offers him. He is one of the few of my students that is not dazzled by the lights of the Siem Reap ‘ metropolis’ but considers the countryside and surrounding nature his favourite place in the world.

Today I am honoured to be taking part in his class. His in the school furthest away from Siem Reap and the Pagoda. It takes us about an hour to get there. His students are representative of the area's population. They seem to be the deep countryside people who are perhaps most detached from the metropolis' ‘ civilisation’. His two classes merge into one: he usually delivers a two hour lesson. Once again we are surrounded and observed by parents and locals. But there are more villagers joining in and observing here than in other schools. And some of them squat down to listen and participate in the lesson despite the fact that they are in their fourties and fifties. During this longer lesson we get the opportunity to practice the last and current lesson a lot more. We play more games and actively learn during the lesson. After all and despite the emphasis we have collectively decided to put on revision and homework, it is often true that the students do not have much time to study in their free time. They work at the rice fields, some of them who are lucky might get the chance to go to state school and they also need to have enough time to support their family during the daytime.

This is a truly interactive session, that involves all of us in an equal and seamless manner. This young man is a conductor, who manages to sound clearer despite his thick countryside accent when he teaches. Phalla also joins in and he leaves the class with a clear message on the importance of studying hard when you can. And perhaps most significantly the importance of hoping and dreaming of a better place for yourself and your community. ‘ One of you might be a teacher, or even a doctor one day’ he says, ‘ you have to believe it and work hard’. To me this is what this is all about: giving these students the oppportunity and skills to learn, to want to learn and to want more for themselves and their community. In a way it is about empowering them to dare and showing them how a combination of work, courage and external support can eventually release them from dependence on external help. How it can release them from the fear of a bleak future, dependence and limited opportunities.

Fernando and Ines

I am becoming a permanent 'feature' of the restaurant, an adopted resident that that facilitates communications, gives directions and has sometimes brief other times longer encounters with people passing through. Today a man in his late forties sits on the table in front of me and to the left admiring the slow flow of people, the passing monks and children. I don’t recall how we start talking. Fernando is a pilot based in Singapore. He trains pilots to fly the massive Boeing 747 aircraft that carried me to Korea. He is here for a three day flying visit with Ines his niece , an airhostess, that stopped over in Singapore. When Ines walks out of the massage parlour above the restaurant the resemblance. Ines is …energy and light. We connect instantly in the limited time we get to talk to each other and discuss Cambodian culture and particularly our observaions on women. She has been here only for 3 days but I find her extremely insightful and perceptive. Her antenna is definitely tuned in.

Fernando and Ines become my Puerto Rican connection in Cambodia. We have a discussion about their family’s history and how Fernando’s family including Ines’ mother, left Puerto Rico for Cuba and later departed for the land of abundance and endless possibilities. It is nice to hear their Puerto Rican accent softening American English words. I feel an affinity to these two and it is so easy to be around them. I am sad to see them go but they have to catch a plane back to Singapore. As my mother rightly says:  ‘the more friends you make the more homes you have in this world’. I think I have two more added to my list.

Festival traffic

Every morning I enjoy strong dark coffee sweetened by condensed milk with my breakfast. I have grown so used to this ‘sweet’ morning habit that I knowI will not be able to shake it off on my return  UK. The traffic and commotion on our quiet part of the riverside has picked up in preparation of the Water festival. There are Khmer people camping under the trees, sleeping in hammocks and guarding their skilfully decorated boats. Today is a bright day and I am quietly contemplating a wander, just a walk to take it all in.

In the past few days the restaurant of my hostel has become busier and has welcomed a multinational clientele passing by as they walk along the riverside admiring the increasing numbers of boats which seem to be increasing by the hour. A token of various nationalities stop for dinner, lunch, a drink.  Dutch, American, German. A French couple stops by for breakfast every morning. They only want to talk to each other and have a routine of finishing their breakfast and taking off on bicycles they rent from the hostel. I meet Lucien the Belgian (volunteer) communications officer of Krousar Thmey a charity set up to help Cambodian deprived children. The charity currently has an exhibition on the water and it significance in Cambodian culture. There was also a memorable and loud group of fifteen or so Italians enjoyed dinner here a couple of nights or so ago. They talked about food throughout the whole meal, comparing the Khmer to their regional delicacies and planning what they will eat next. This is oddly familiar to me and Mr Green who never seizes to be amazed at my ability to talk about food, recipes and creative flavours for hours particularly during meals. It is clear that the approaching water festival has attracted more visitors to Siem Reap or perhaps if they have already been here it has definitely brought them to this side of town.  Siem Reap together with the rest of Cambodia is getting ready for the water festival. There seems to a sloe climax to the celebrations and I am getting excited in anticipation.

Village Schools 3: Srey lin

Sreylin is very nervous when we arrive at her school. Soon we laugh her nerves off. We go through her lesson plan, then meet some members of her family. Her school is at the heart the Preh Dak village where she and Phalla are from. It is  built on the land of her house and is the village school closest to the Pagoda. Preh Dak is an ordered and beautiful village houses (huts) with rows of Cambodian houses on stilts.

Sreylin apologises for the dunk smell, which I had not really noticed until that point. The school is next to the open stable where her two buffalos rest. One of them is badly injured so she has to collect grass for him every morning from the fields to feed him. I can see that his injury upsets her very much. There are not many vets here so she hopes that the buffalo gets better and can walk again. But she fears that this might not happen.

As the village school is easily accessible the class is very busy, despite the earlier rain and muddy roads. Sreylin is one of the most methodical teachers. She is very nervous but actually her English is a lot better when she teaches rather when she is taught. She comfortably steps up to the challenge of teaching. Some people are simply tuned to be teachers and she seems to be one. I am so proud to watch her as she incorporates a spelling game in the lesson, homework check and a couple of songs. She also seems to have taken on board lesson planning, teaching tips and much of what we have learned and practiced. Towards the end of the lesson things get tougher for Sreylin as her whole family and some villagers have gathered around the class to watch her. It must be unnerving and we are all getting tired.

My day ends with some time with Srey lin and her family. Phalla plays translator but in reality not many words are spoken. Like the aspara dancers we perform this scene of interaction with gentle body movements and meaningful glances so that nothing gets lost.  I watch Sreylin’s mother quietly admiring her daughter. And that just that fills me with joy.

This grass roots community project is growing its own teachers. It is giving its own young people the opportunity to develop skills through practice, training and our small contributions, assistance, training. An opportunity that some of them might not have otherwise had. The project also gives the community the opportunity to marvel at its own strength and potential. I came here persuaded but as time goes by I grow more and more convinced that this is the way that skills should grow, from the roots like nature intended.

Thorny politics and tabús

In Cambodia there are some different accounts of the Khmer Rouge events than the one widely recorded. This has been described to me as ‘an uninformed viewer’s’ perspective but then in reality it is an oral account of the events from some of the local people’s subjective perspective.  If even in Cambodia, you might want to prepare to challenge your western pro democracy beliefs (as Lucy very well describes the way most of us have grown up). I had to carefully manage the feelings that some of the discussions evoked, be insightful and open minded.

One of the biggest challenges has been to see people idolise the Khmer Rouge and reminisce in its egalitarian principles. I deliberately did not read about modern Cambodian history in much detail but was aware of the main events, key political figures and observations as recorded by foreign historians. The events are very complicated. But I was, perhaps naively, baffled by some people’s affinity to the Khmer Rouge. Even more surprising is that some of these people are in their thirties or younger. Young adults who have no memory of the era and who interpret the facts as relayed to them by their family and close circles. Or perhaps this is not surprising at all.

It has not been easy to digest, particularly as I then came across some other people like Sopiah who had a different informed opinion through working at the Cambodian history documentation office. To understand this internal national conflict, this contradiction, you have to remind yourself that history does not seem to be taught at Cambodian schools and current teenagers are the first generation to which English is widely taught. This gives them future access to international accounts of the events for the first time. As many people tell me here Cambodians have not had access to a lot of the information internationally available because of language and education barriers. Annie, an informed English Language teacher, who has lived in Cambodia for ten years, also believes that the Cambodian reaction I observe is a national coping mechanism. Having gone through bereavement and grief myself I can relate to this and fully understand the analogy.

The Khmer Rouge era is a thorny subject, almost a tabù. Some people tell you that the killings have not happened whilst facing the victims’ skeleton shrines. I would have to dedicate a few months if not years to the subject to really look into it and be in a position to challenge oral history and accounts.

There is something else to bear in mind. I say what I about to say mustering all the understanding and objectivity I can find within me: historical events are subjective accounts to a certain extent and are experienced differently by individuals and their families. They have a different impact and consequences on different groups and individuals.  Historical interpretations can be fabricated and powerful media or international politicians can legitimise one account over another.

I have to remind myself about the Greek civil war and how it tore my father’s family apart. It was a time that uncles nearly killed nephews in the dark forests or if you want to name people kill my own 10 year old father. Atrocities committed in the name of a leader of a political ideology never impress me. And what angers me sometimes is that nations can be acting out a scenario created by masterful puppeteers, in international political and economic growth ploys a lot bigger than their national reality or concerns.

We can all pick a side in historical events but does this make our choice right?  And is it not a lot easier to do this when you are detached from this event as it does not take place in your country? It is easier to condemn other people’s mistakes or actions than your own.

So whilst I am instinctively averted by the Khmer Rouge events and the evidence I can see, I have no intention to impose my views on anyone. I also think I need to do a bit more research to be informed.

I have reaffirmed one thing today: I will continue to judge people by their actions and not their statements and political opinions.  Look at some of the self righteous westerners and their states condemning and taking positions in the media yet subversively intervening in historical events and committing silent atrocities through their continuing colonialist behaviour in the name of capitalism and self interst.

Sopanha's place

The cook and I

At Sopanha's

Sopanha and Koosh

Siem Riep can definitely offer culinary indulgence. There are many classy restaurants with delightful dishes, amazing decor and excellent service. But the standard of food is usually excellent in smaller and reasonable places and avant guarde restaurants. Apart from the rare occassion, I have preferred to savour the home cooked dishes of road side cafes and particularly of small, family run restaurants. One of the best restaurants I have dined at in Siem Riep is Arun Restaurant where Ming Pow nourishes her visitors. This is the restaurant behind which my room was placed.

Another great place is Sopanha's on 12D Mondul Svay Dangkom. Sopanha is a lively and passionate man. His English is impressively good as is his knowledge of Cambodian's history (at least this is the impression he gives me). As well as running a small restaurant he is a tourist guide. Sopanha’s family suffered the consequences of recent historical events in Cambodia. His is a different perspective: he used to work with the office of national documentation (apologies for the most likely incorrect term), so he has seen evidence of the killings that took place during the Khmer Rouge regime. Combined with his family experience he is one of the people who perhaps as a Cambodian is better placed to give you an accurate introduction to the historic events that took place in Cambodia at the end of the seventies. So I would visit him or contact him to take you around places if you ever find yourself in Siem Reap.

This unpretentious small restaurant can be found opposite the11^th January High school and offers me a fantastic  traditional lemongrass soup. The food is cooked by Sopanha’s wife. He has 7 women running this place with him. Some are daughters, some are nieces.  There are a couple of boys running out to school in a rush. As I am waiting for Phalla I indudge in Sopanha's company.  We talk excitedly.

As Phalla’s ‘hello kitty’ car (there is a massive hello kitty sticker in the middle of the back window), stops to meet me outside Sopieh’s, the torrential rain gets heavier. It is welcome and refreshing on this muggy day. It has actually been raining every day since the beginning of this week but usually in the late afternoon or at night. In these conditions, Phalla’s little car transforms into a mini 4x4 as we turn into muddy dirt tracks with large pools of water.  Water gets into the engine and I pray we make it to our destination. But I should have no fear, there are numerous lucky charms blessed by the monks adorning the CCHA vehicle. In any case Phalla keeps crossing the water pools fearlessly and despite the smoke coming from the engine! Somehow it all works and  we get to the Pagoda school in time.