Svay Rieng, Phum Ampil

Several months ago, Shanti’s NGO brought a group of about twenty villagers affected by the Khmer Rouge to Phnom Penh to tour Toul Sleng (S-21) and Choeung Ek (The Killing Fields) as part of a social needs assessment and history dialogue. The trip was very much a cultural experience for the villagers as well; none had been to Phnom Penh before and had to be taught how to use flush toilets and light switches. Though I was unable to attend the tour of Toul Sleng or Choeung Ek, I did bring ice cream, which they had never had before, to their guesthouse. Not only did they love it, but the manner in which they ate it was quite adorable: squatting in the lobby of the guesthouse in a circle.

Anyways, this past Sunday, Shanti, Becky (Shanti’s friend from Tufts), and I decided to visit the villagers. It was my first village stay and Shanti’s first without the assistance of her co-worker as translator (no one in the village speaks English). We set off for a shared taxi near the Olympic Stadium and, upon arriving at the “depot” via tuk-tuk, were attacked by taxi drivers in a far more aggressive manner than ever before. Several of the drivers tried to take our bags out of our hands and place them in their cars. Very annoying. Once we selected a driver, however, we piled in to the mid-90s Toyota Camry. As is typical of shared taxis in Cambodia, the three of us shared the backseat with a fourth, and there were four in the front; unfortunately, the driver tends to share his seat with someone else.

Despite the potential hazards of our transport, we arrived at our “transfer” point within a few hours. The local organization that Shanti’s NGO partners with picked us up and we took a bumpy forty-five minute moto ride to Phum Ampil (Ampil Village). Upon arrival we were greeted by the head of the local organization and taken to our host family’s house for lunch. Everyone was thrilled to see Shanti; she clearly made a very positive impression on those that she interacted with on the trip to Phnom Penh and on her previous trip to the village. Some of the villagers remembered me as well, smiling and saying “karem” (ice cream).

A good chunk of the village, about forty people, was at the house for lunch and after formal hellos and introductions we were ushered inside. A huge feast of rice, chicken, duck, fish, and the ever-present rice wine awaited us. Even though it was only about 11:30, the rice wine – which has the taste of vodka but isn’t quite as strong – was flowing freely and it was quite difficult to turn a shot of the substance down. The food, though, was really good. In some ways, it felt like I was surrounded by Jewish mothers, as the food kept being piled onto my plate and I couldn’t refuse. At one point I was served a chicken foot, but I managed to avoid eating it…I don’t know how I could’ve gotten that down. After eating, I realized that I was sitting with all of the women and that the men were eating (and drinking) separately. So I got up and sat with the men. A few more shots of rice wine in my gullet and they were asking me about Shanti, if we were married, and if I had bought her a ring. It made for an entertaining, if not awkward conversation.

Following lunch, we wandered around the village, stopping by various houses to say hello. Invariably, we would be invited in and offered tea, food, and/or rice wine. For the most part, everyone asked the same questions: how are we, how are Shanti’s co-workers, when is Shanti’s co-worker going to have a baby (to which Shanti replied she was “thom thom” – very big – and due in two weeks), etc. The older members of the village were especially lovable, incredibly interested in what we had to say, and particularly inviting, both with their homes and with their food. It was easy to tell that they genuinely adored Shanti and would be eager to adopt her if given the chance.

As we went from house to house, we collected a following of children as well. A group of girls must have found some make up somewhere, because a handful of them (none older than ten) were all dolled up, with lipstick, eye shadow, and blush. At first, the kids were fairly shy, keeping ten or fifteen feet behind us as we walked, but gradually they got closer and closer until they were holding hands with us. They followed us into each house, eager to see what we had to talk about with the elders in the village. They loved looking at the pictures Shanti brought from her last visit and loved posing for pictures even more. The best part, though, was watching their reaction to being able to see themselves instantly on the back of the digital camera; they were elated!

After stops at five houses (rice wine at two, food at three), we went back to the host family’s house for dinner. The feast was almost as big as lunch. There was chicken, fish (which was actually quite good), duck, rice, vegetables, bananas, and lots of ambok, a special form of rice made during the harvest season. Oh, and there was lots of rice wine too. After drinking and eating, we sat around and chatted for a few hours. The villagers were really keen to learn English, which was somewhat surprising to me, but also endearing. They would say a word or phrase in Khmer and look at us inquisitively, “Anglais?” It was quite fun. Before retiring, we stargazed for a few minutes – the clarity of the sky was really impressive and the quantity of stars was quite humbling. Exhausted, both from the amount of food that we ate and from trying to understand all of the Khmer flying back and forth, we went upstairs into the house, where the three of us (Shanti, Becky, and I) curled up on a wooden bed frame. It wasn’t the most comfortable night’s rest I had, but it was well worth it.

We woke up early the next morning to do some more wandering. There was a beautiful sunrise and a very calm mistiness over the golden, freshly harvested rice fields. We said our farewell to as many as we could, stopping for tea and food at most houses. We were back at the host family’s house by a bit before seven for our compulsory breakfast of rice, fish, and bananas. Even at 7:00am, I was offered rice wine and, though I declined, I was in the minority by doing so. I never thought I would eat so much (or so well) out in the village. By 8:00 our mini-bus arrived, and we piled in the very cramped mini bus, which fit twenty-nine of us – it was meant for no more than eighteen – plus two on the roof (also common practice in Cambodia). The villagers were quite sad to see us go and it was a bit distressing to leave them. That said, it was great to have such a positive experience and to want so much to return. The trip was a taste of what life is really like in Cambodia – poor, but incredibly warm and hospitable – and a welcome change from the big city life of Phnom Penh.