Monday, March 31, 2008
Your USA Pal
For the next 2+ weeks, I will be back in the US and therefore, unable to attend Khmer weddings, eat unusual meats, or make mundane observations about life in Cambodia. However, I will try to make a few posts on my return to the States and the culture shock that is sure to ensue. (One friend recently commented that it takes a few days to determine if the state that you are in is a result of a) jetlag, b) emotional trauma, or c) both). I'll keep you posted.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
The Composer
This past Friday my friend Pat invited me and Shanti (and my friend Liora who was in town) to attend an art opening of sorts hosted by his family. The event was held in the gallery by Wat Phnom, which Pat's uncle is in charge of operating.
When we first arrived, we weren't sure if we were in the right place. Because we looked like tourists and because it was a private event, we were initially discouraged from entering. I spotted Pat inside though and we worked our way over to him. As a live band played Khmer music, both old and new, Pat gave us a tour of the facilities. His uncle had just completed a series of large dioramas depicting various periods, from the Angkor empire of the thirteenth century to the present day.
After our tour we were seated at a table with a group of Khmer people, friends of Pat's aunt and uncle. We were supplied with ample beer and Johnnie Walker (they love the stuff all over Asia) as well as fresh spring rolls, noodles, and curry. We nibbled at our food, sipped our drinks, and chatted a bit with our table neighbors, most of whom spoke limited English.
About thirty minutes into our meal, a man came over and very enthusiastically - and in very good English - introduced himself and his son as composers. We were quite interested and encouraged him to join the band for a song or two. He promised us he would play an English song so that we could sing along. Before the next song, he told us that composing was only his hobby, his actual job was working for the National Police. He handed me a business card - a photocopy of his ID - to reveal that not only was he in the police, but that he was a Lieutenant Colonel. A Lieutenant Colonel composer??
As he took the stage he picked up a guitar and started singing a popular 80s love song that I know only by its chorus, "when you love someone/somebody" (it's not Bryan Adams). His singing, which was quite good and without an accent, was rivaled only by his guitar playing, which was excellent (he even took a solo!). Cheering him on at the end of the song, we shouted "mouy tiet" ("one more") and he obliged without hesitation. It was a very impressive display and I now have his card in my wallet to remember him by and, more importantly, to help me out if I get into any trouble.
When we first arrived, we weren't sure if we were in the right place. Because we looked like tourists and because it was a private event, we were initially discouraged from entering. I spotted Pat inside though and we worked our way over to him. As a live band played Khmer music, both old and new, Pat gave us a tour of the facilities. His uncle had just completed a series of large dioramas depicting various periods, from the Angkor empire of the thirteenth century to the present day.
After our tour we were seated at a table with a group of Khmer people, friends of Pat's aunt and uncle. We were supplied with ample beer and Johnnie Walker (they love the stuff all over Asia) as well as fresh spring rolls, noodles, and curry. We nibbled at our food, sipped our drinks, and chatted a bit with our table neighbors, most of whom spoke limited English.
About thirty minutes into our meal, a man came over and very enthusiastically - and in very good English - introduced himself and his son as composers. We were quite interested and encouraged him to join the band for a song or two. He promised us he would play an English song so that we could sing along. Before the next song, he told us that composing was only his hobby, his actual job was working for the National Police. He handed me a business card - a photocopy of his ID - to reveal that not only was he in the police, but that he was a Lieutenant Colonel. A Lieutenant Colonel composer??
As he took the stage he picked up a guitar and started singing a popular 80s love song that I know only by its chorus, "when you love someone/somebody" (it's not Bryan Adams). His singing, which was quite good and without an accent, was rivaled only by his guitar playing, which was excellent (he even took a solo!). Cheering him on at the end of the song, we shouted "mouy tiet" ("one more") and he obliged without hesitation. It was a very impressive display and I now have his card in my wallet to remember him by and, more importantly, to help me out if I get into any trouble.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Thorn's Wedding: Day 2
4:00am. The loudspeaker above the wedding/circus tent wakes me up with some early morning chanting. I was planning on getting up at 5:00am, but this was an unexpected (and unwelcome) early rousing. I laid in bed trying to get a bit more rest before finally getting up a bit before 5:00am.
Just before six the first ceremony of the day began and I believe it was a ceremony blessing ancestors. The ceremony was short and fairly uneventful. Prior to the next ceremony, the groom’s processional, I got to put on the first “fun” outfit of the day: white pants with a bright blue and shiny Chinese-style button-up jacket. With Thorn and the other groomsmen, I posed for a few pictures before heading back down to the living room.
Though it was only 7:30am, about 150 people had gather at and around the house for the groom’s procession. Back in the day, the groom and the bride were from the same village and the groom would, with his family and friends, walk to the bride’s house carrying food and gifts. In modern times though, people gather at the bride’s house with trays of fruit and meat and baskets of flowers and at the designated time, they walk about 200 meters away from the bride’s house before returning back. As the best man, I walked right behind Thorn and his parents, carrying a big basket of flowers. Arriving at the wedding tent, the procession was seated in a rectangular manner, with Thorn and his parents making up one of the short sides and guests seating themselves on the long sides. Phea and her parents then exited from the house to accept the gifts presented to her. I have never seen so much food in one place; it was really unbelievable how much fruit, meat, and pastries were brought to Phea and her family.
By the time this ceremony was over, I had been awake for five hours and I hadn’t eaten anything. I was starving. We had a delicious and spicy pho-like soup for breakfast, with noodles, chicken, mint, chilies, and bean sprouts. After wolfing it down with a Coke – it felt like lunch-time – it was time for more ceremonies.
The knot-tying ceremony (no seriously, that’s what it’s called; I wonder if this is where the expression “tying the knot” comes from…) followed the procession. During this ceremony, thin red (good luck) – strings are tied around the bride and groom’s wrists by family members and close friends, who then bless them. I had the honor of doing both. Though we had just eaten an hour and a half before, it was time for lunch, where, again, Thorn’s father heaped tons of rather unappetizing soup into my bowl. Luckily there was a good amount of rice and beef with green peppers to satisfy. Stuffed and exhausted, I was glad to have a few hours to nap and relax.
A little bit after 3:00pm Shanti arrived after an equally long and uneventful bus ride as me. We went to say hello to “the crew,” and they were almost as excited to see another foreigner as Shanti was to meet Phea. We hung out a bit and snapped a few pictures before going to relax a bit more prior to the big party in the evening.
When I returned to Phea’s house for the wedding reception, it was time for fun outfit number two. Before I got dressed though, I tied Thorn’s dad’s tie for him; it is not unlikely that it was the first time that he ever wore a tie. When it came time for me to get dressed, I kept my black pants on and instead of a shiny blue jacket, I was given a shiny pink one. That’s right folks, I wore a bright pink jacket. I think that it is the first and quite possibly the last time that I will ever wear pink. Shanti, of course, was incredibly amused. After some giggles and some pictures, it was time to begin greeting the guests. As the guests arrive, the groom and groomsmen and the bride and bridesmaids stand opposite each other in front of the entrance to the wedding tent.
For nearly three hours we greeted the nearly 300 guests that arrived, sitting down and standing up like a game of stationary musical chairs. Halfway through the greetings, I went into the house to change into fun outfit number three. I switched back to the white pants, but the pair I tried on was way too tight and way too short. I was given another pair that was a bit longer, but still too tight. The seamstress loosened them a bit, but they were still the tightest pants I had ever worn. Every time I crouched down, I thought a seam was going to rip. Not ideal for the kind of up-and-down greeting I was to be doing for the next ninety minutes. The jacket, also white, was tight as well and I was unable to move my arms far from my side. Though quite uncomfortable, I must admit that I was highly amused by the outfit, which was topped off by a stylish red bowtie.
The greetings were followed immediately by the wedding procession formally entering the party and a number of other traditions. Thorn and Phea were introduced and asked a few questions by the lead singer of the live band. And then I, unexpectedly, was called to the stage to give a speech. Me? I may be the best man, but the only people here that speak English are me, Shanti, and Thorn. What the hell was I going to say and not make a fool of myself? So, I made a fool of myself. “I’m going to speak in English, since my Khmer isn’t very good…” Ouch. I recovered though, to give what I would consider a descent speech, saying that I was honored to be the best man and that I hoped that Thorn and Phea would be as happy for the rest of their lives as they are today. Following a few words from Thorn and Phea’s parents, Thorn and Phea had their first kiss and began the cake cutting ceremony, which starts with an onslaught of confetti and silly string. Thorn then fed cake to Phea’s parents and vice versa.
With all the ceremonies over, it was time for some fun. I changed into fun outfit number four – the too-tight white pants with a neon green jacket and took a number of pictures with Thorn, Phea, and the rest of the wedding party. Looking at my watch I realized it was already 9:30pm. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch at about noon and needed some food. As soon as I sat down at Thorn’s parents’ table, Phea’s father said that I really needed to get up and dance. I politely declined, saying that I would dance in a few minutes, once I had devoured the cashews, spring rolls, rice, shrimp salad, beef and pork that lay before me. The food was washed down by the glass of beer that Thorn’s dad ensured was full and cold.
In a few minutes he was back, and Shanti and I had no choice but to show off our severely lacking Apsara dancing skills. We lasted a few dances before taking a short break. Then it was back to the dance floor for more Khmer-style dancing. After a few songs, and a slow dance, Shanti and I called it a night. We thanked Thorn and Phea and their parents and, as we headed back to our guesthouse, managed to find a slice of wedding cake. Exhausted, we crashed hard despite the loud wedding music that continued just outside our window.
Just before six the first ceremony of the day began and I believe it was a ceremony blessing ancestors. The ceremony was short and fairly uneventful. Prior to the next ceremony, the groom’s processional, I got to put on the first “fun” outfit of the day: white pants with a bright blue and shiny Chinese-style button-up jacket. With Thorn and the other groomsmen, I posed for a few pictures before heading back down to the living room.
Though it was only 7:30am, about 150 people had gather at and around the house for the groom’s procession. Back in the day, the groom and the bride were from the same village and the groom would, with his family and friends, walk to the bride’s house carrying food and gifts. In modern times though, people gather at the bride’s house with trays of fruit and meat and baskets of flowers and at the designated time, they walk about 200 meters away from the bride’s house before returning back. As the best man, I walked right behind Thorn and his parents, carrying a big basket of flowers. Arriving at the wedding tent, the procession was seated in a rectangular manner, with Thorn and his parents making up one of the short sides and guests seating themselves on the long sides. Phea and her parents then exited from the house to accept the gifts presented to her. I have never seen so much food in one place; it was really unbelievable how much fruit, meat, and pastries were brought to Phea and her family.
By the time this ceremony was over, I had been awake for five hours and I hadn’t eaten anything. I was starving. We had a delicious and spicy pho-like soup for breakfast, with noodles, chicken, mint, chilies, and bean sprouts. After wolfing it down with a Coke – it felt like lunch-time – it was time for more ceremonies.
The knot-tying ceremony (no seriously, that’s what it’s called; I wonder if this is where the expression “tying the knot” comes from…) followed the procession. During this ceremony, thin red (good luck) – strings are tied around the bride and groom’s wrists by family members and close friends, who then bless them. I had the honor of doing both. Though we had just eaten an hour and a half before, it was time for lunch, where, again, Thorn’s father heaped tons of rather unappetizing soup into my bowl. Luckily there was a good amount of rice and beef with green peppers to satisfy. Stuffed and exhausted, I was glad to have a few hours to nap and relax.
A little bit after 3:00pm Shanti arrived after an equally long and uneventful bus ride as me. We went to say hello to “the crew,” and they were almost as excited to see another foreigner as Shanti was to meet Phea. We hung out a bit and snapped a few pictures before going to relax a bit more prior to the big party in the evening.
When I returned to Phea’s house for the wedding reception, it was time for fun outfit number two. Before I got dressed though, I tied Thorn’s dad’s tie for him; it is not unlikely that it was the first time that he ever wore a tie. When it came time for me to get dressed, I kept my black pants on and instead of a shiny blue jacket, I was given a shiny pink one. That’s right folks, I wore a bright pink jacket. I think that it is the first and quite possibly the last time that I will ever wear pink. Shanti, of course, was incredibly amused. After some giggles and some pictures, it was time to begin greeting the guests. As the guests arrive, the groom and groomsmen and the bride and bridesmaids stand opposite each other in front of the entrance to the wedding tent.
For nearly three hours we greeted the nearly 300 guests that arrived, sitting down and standing up like a game of stationary musical chairs. Halfway through the greetings, I went into the house to change into fun outfit number three. I switched back to the white pants, but the pair I tried on was way too tight and way too short. I was given another pair that was a bit longer, but still too tight. The seamstress loosened them a bit, but they were still the tightest pants I had ever worn. Every time I crouched down, I thought a seam was going to rip. Not ideal for the kind of up-and-down greeting I was to be doing for the next ninety minutes. The jacket, also white, was tight as well and I was unable to move my arms far from my side. Though quite uncomfortable, I must admit that I was highly amused by the outfit, which was topped off by a stylish red bowtie.
The greetings were followed immediately by the wedding procession formally entering the party and a number of other traditions. Thorn and Phea were introduced and asked a few questions by the lead singer of the live band. And then I, unexpectedly, was called to the stage to give a speech. Me? I may be the best man, but the only people here that speak English are me, Shanti, and Thorn. What the hell was I going to say and not make a fool of myself? So, I made a fool of myself. “I’m going to speak in English, since my Khmer isn’t very good…” Ouch. I recovered though, to give what I would consider a descent speech, saying that I was honored to be the best man and that I hoped that Thorn and Phea would be as happy for the rest of their lives as they are today. Following a few words from Thorn and Phea’s parents, Thorn and Phea had their first kiss and began the cake cutting ceremony, which starts with an onslaught of confetti and silly string. Thorn then fed cake to Phea’s parents and vice versa.
With all the ceremonies over, it was time for some fun. I changed into fun outfit number four – the too-tight white pants with a neon green jacket and took a number of pictures with Thorn, Phea, and the rest of the wedding party. Looking at my watch I realized it was already 9:30pm. I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch at about noon and needed some food. As soon as I sat down at Thorn’s parents’ table, Phea’s father said that I really needed to get up and dance. I politely declined, saying that I would dance in a few minutes, once I had devoured the cashews, spring rolls, rice, shrimp salad, beef and pork that lay before me. The food was washed down by the glass of beer that Thorn’s dad ensured was full and cold.
In a few minutes he was back, and Shanti and I had no choice but to show off our severely lacking Apsara dancing skills. We lasted a few dances before taking a short break. Then it was back to the dance floor for more Khmer-style dancing. After a few songs, and a slow dance, Shanti and I called it a night. We thanked Thorn and Phea and their parents and, as we headed back to our guesthouse, managed to find a slice of wedding cake. Exhausted, we crashed hard despite the loud wedding music that continued just outside our window.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thorn's Wedding: Day 1
On Saturday morning, I roused myself just before six in the morning. I hopped in the shower, shaved hurriedly, and set off for the bus station. The seven and a half hour ride was fairly uneventful until we arrived at Banteay Meanchey, where, because of the poor road quality, we were forced to slow to about thirty kilometers an hour. As we trudged along, an incredible amount of dust was kicked up, making it hard to see what was ahead of us and sending stifling particles of dust through the air conditioning.
By about 2:30, I arrived at the transport station in Poipet. While most of the things that I had heard and read about Poipet were extremely negative, my initial impressions were fairly neutral. It certainly wasn’t the most attractive town that I had been to, but there wasn’t anything particularly offensive about it. I made my way to my guesthouse, booked in advance by Thorn, and discovered it was literally across the street from the wedding at his wife-to-be’s house.
Shortly after checking in and about to hop in the shower, I got a message from Thorn saying that I should join him for the cleansing/hair-cutting ceremony. Foregoing the much-needed shower, I rushed to put on my black dress pants and a white button-down shirt. I strolled across the street, through the enormous rectangular red and yellow circus-like tent, past the four person traditional Khmer band, and into Phea’s family’s living room, which had been transformed by colorful flowers, baskets of food, and brightly dressed bridesmaids and groomsmen (Thorn had a stand-in for me since it was possible I would be late). As I sign of respect, I bowed as I entered, finding a seat among Thorn and Phea’s families.
During the cleansing ceremony, various family members of the bride and groom bless them, spray them with perfume, and pretend to cut their hair, so that none of their past misfortunes remain. Throughout the ceremony, a male MC, who was old, toothless and elaborately dressed, sang and danced. Though I didn’t really understand what was going on, the ceremony was quite beautiful and I frequently made eye contact with Thorn, who looked as happy as he should have been.
Following the hour-long ceremony, we had a few minutes to relax. I was finally able to meet Thorn’s wife, Phea – who is shy, but beautiful – and both of their families. Besides Thorn and two of his groomsmen no one spoke English at all, so I got a good opportunity to practice my Khmer. Thorn’s father, an adorable and quite humble farmer, was especially welcoming.
After putting on a striped tie (for I now was officially the best man), I headed downstairs for a ceremony in which Thorn and Phea would receive a blessing from several monks. Five monks sat on the floor before us and Thorn, Phea, one of the bridesmaids, and I, sat opposite them. When praying in the presence of monks, it is necessary to sit with both of your legs out to one side, a very uncomfortable position for an inflexible non-Buddhist. During the ceremony, the monks chanted at length, Thorn and Phea’s parents blessed them, and even I had to follow others’ lead in a bit of praying, putting my palms together in front of my chest, then flat on the ground, and then back in front of my chest in sets of three. Though the hour-long ceremony was fascinating and the chanting both beautiful and mesmerizing, my legs began to give way toward the end.
Following a shower, it was time for dinner, where I had the honor of sitting with Thorn’s parents and some of his other close relatives. We had an assortment of Khmer food, which, for the most part was quite delicious. The one dish I didn’t particularly enjoy, the soup, was the one that Thorn’s father insisted I consume incessantly. Once finished with dinner, one of Thorn’s relatives asked me if I could “puk sra” (drink alcohol). I assured him I was able and joined most of the older gentleman around a table for several rounds of some kind of paint-thinner like whiskey with soda water. Though lacking in taste, it was quite nice to feel so included in all of the events and to be immediately such a part of the family.
Dinner was followed by a ceremony blessing Thorn and Phea’s parents. For the ceremony, Thorn sat behind Phea’s parents and vice versa, holding an umbrella over their heads to symbolize a reversal of the protective role that parents traditionally have for their children. To this point, Thorn and Phea had changed outfits for every different ceremony, whereas I had consistently worn the same thing (though I was assured this would not be the case the following day).
While waiting to head into downtown Poipet to stroll around the five-star hotel-casinos, I chatted with Phea’s grandmother. I had a bit of trouble understanding her and she had to repeat herself several times so that I would have a shot at guessing her meaning. A bit frustrated with my lacking Khmer skills, she gave me a little slap to the face, which I’m told, is the greatest sign of endearment a “yay” (grandmother) can show someone of my age.
Heading into Poipet, my eyes met the most bizarre thing I’ve seen in Cambodia since I’ve arrived and I like to think I’ve seen some strange sights. Enormous hotels were practically on top of each other, each with bright Vegas-style neon lights. I can’t imagine a greater juxtaposition with the modest and austere Cambodian countryside just a few kilometers away. As we walked around, a live band performed on a huge stage to a few hundred curious and relaxed onlookers. Thorn told me that there was live music every night – Phnom Penh is lucky to get a sizeable concert once every few months. Having seen enough, we headed back to Phea’s house and I crashed for the evening.
By about 2:30, I arrived at the transport station in Poipet. While most of the things that I had heard and read about Poipet were extremely negative, my initial impressions were fairly neutral. It certainly wasn’t the most attractive town that I had been to, but there wasn’t anything particularly offensive about it. I made my way to my guesthouse, booked in advance by Thorn, and discovered it was literally across the street from the wedding at his wife-to-be’s house.
Shortly after checking in and about to hop in the shower, I got a message from Thorn saying that I should join him for the cleansing/hair-cutting ceremony. Foregoing the much-needed shower, I rushed to put on my black dress pants and a white button-down shirt. I strolled across the street, through the enormous rectangular red and yellow circus-like tent, past the four person traditional Khmer band, and into Phea’s family’s living room, which had been transformed by colorful flowers, baskets of food, and brightly dressed bridesmaids and groomsmen (Thorn had a stand-in for me since it was possible I would be late). As I sign of respect, I bowed as I entered, finding a seat among Thorn and Phea’s families.
During the cleansing ceremony, various family members of the bride and groom bless them, spray them with perfume, and pretend to cut their hair, so that none of their past misfortunes remain. Throughout the ceremony, a male MC, who was old, toothless and elaborately dressed, sang and danced. Though I didn’t really understand what was going on, the ceremony was quite beautiful and I frequently made eye contact with Thorn, who looked as happy as he should have been.
Following the hour-long ceremony, we had a few minutes to relax. I was finally able to meet Thorn’s wife, Phea – who is shy, but beautiful – and both of their families. Besides Thorn and two of his groomsmen no one spoke English at all, so I got a good opportunity to practice my Khmer. Thorn’s father, an adorable and quite humble farmer, was especially welcoming.
After putting on a striped tie (for I now was officially the best man), I headed downstairs for a ceremony in which Thorn and Phea would receive a blessing from several monks. Five monks sat on the floor before us and Thorn, Phea, one of the bridesmaids, and I, sat opposite them. When praying in the presence of monks, it is necessary to sit with both of your legs out to one side, a very uncomfortable position for an inflexible non-Buddhist. During the ceremony, the monks chanted at length, Thorn and Phea’s parents blessed them, and even I had to follow others’ lead in a bit of praying, putting my palms together in front of my chest, then flat on the ground, and then back in front of my chest in sets of three. Though the hour-long ceremony was fascinating and the chanting both beautiful and mesmerizing, my legs began to give way toward the end.
Following a shower, it was time for dinner, where I had the honor of sitting with Thorn’s parents and some of his other close relatives. We had an assortment of Khmer food, which, for the most part was quite delicious. The one dish I didn’t particularly enjoy, the soup, was the one that Thorn’s father insisted I consume incessantly. Once finished with dinner, one of Thorn’s relatives asked me if I could “puk sra” (drink alcohol). I assured him I was able and joined most of the older gentleman around a table for several rounds of some kind of paint-thinner like whiskey with soda water. Though lacking in taste, it was quite nice to feel so included in all of the events and to be immediately such a part of the family.
Dinner was followed by a ceremony blessing Thorn and Phea’s parents. For the ceremony, Thorn sat behind Phea’s parents and vice versa, holding an umbrella over their heads to symbolize a reversal of the protective role that parents traditionally have for their children. To this point, Thorn and Phea had changed outfits for every different ceremony, whereas I had consistently worn the same thing (though I was assured this would not be the case the following day).
While waiting to head into downtown Poipet to stroll around the five-star hotel-casinos, I chatted with Phea’s grandmother. I had a bit of trouble understanding her and she had to repeat herself several times so that I would have a shot at guessing her meaning. A bit frustrated with my lacking Khmer skills, she gave me a little slap to the face, which I’m told, is the greatest sign of endearment a “yay” (grandmother) can show someone of my age.
Heading into Poipet, my eyes met the most bizarre thing I’ve seen in Cambodia since I’ve arrived and I like to think I’ve seen some strange sights. Enormous hotels were practically on top of each other, each with bright Vegas-style neon lights. I can’t imagine a greater juxtaposition with the modest and austere Cambodian countryside just a few kilometers away. As we walked around, a live band performed on a huge stage to a few hundred curious and relaxed onlookers. Thorn told me that there was live music every night – Phnom Penh is lucky to get a sizeable concert once every few months. Having seen enough, we headed back to Phea’s house and I crashed for the evening.
Friday, March 14, 2008
The Best Man
Sorry folks, but Part II on Aziza is going to have to wait a few more days. Why, you might ask, is the entry getting pushed back yet again? Well, some of you may remember my friend (now my "brother") Thorn from my adventures in Battambang all the way back in September. I have kept in close touch with Thorn and even saw him again when I was in Battambang for work last month. Shanti also hung out with him when she was in Battambang for work.
Anyways, just before the last time I saw him, he informed Sister Shanti and Brother Steven that he was going to get married soon - these things happen quite quickly in Cambodia. Very exciting news indeed and when I had the chance to hang out with Thorn in Battambang last month, we discussed his fiancé and wedding plans in great detail (it sounds much more girly than it was).
The story of how he and his fiancé, Phea, met is worth recounting briefly. Phea, who lives with her family in Poipet - a town on the Thai border - was trying to call her uncle in Battambang, where Brother Thorn resides. Instead of her uncle, she got Thorn. They struck up a conversation and then proceeded to speak on the phone on a daily basis until they could finally meet. They spent several days together in Poipet, with Thorn winning over her family, as well as a short trip to Siem Reap. Phea then met Thorn's parents and all was set in motion for the parents to meet and give the go-ahead for an eventual marriage.
When I saw Thorn in February, the date for the wedding had not yet been set and he was weighing whether the wedding should be very soon - Phea's parents wanted her to be married sooner rather than later, as she had already been courted by several men (despite being only twenty), and was likely to be happiest with Thorn - or towards the end of the year and after he graduates from college and would be able to truly provide for his new wife. They decided to take the fast route and will actually spend the first eight months of their marriage apart, with Thorn finishing his studies in Battambang and Phea living with her family in Poipet (they're about two and a half hours apart). Once Thorn graduates, they will live together wherever Thorn is able to find work.
Fast forward to Wednesday. I received a text messages from my dear Brother Thorn: "Hi my brother, how are you? I'm now staying with my wife Phea. We are cooking together. Hey brother, could you please to be my best man? That would be great if you can do. Please let me know if possible. Blessing."
Me, a best man? At a traditional Khmer wedding? I promptly called Thorn back telling him how honored I was to receive the offer. What, I asked, does being the best man entail? He told me that there was not so much responsibility, but that I would have to change outfits often (the groom changes about ten times during the course of a wedding, the bride even more and the best man matches the groom). Though I am going to be late to the ceremony, which starts at 9:00am on Saturday and continues through Sunday, Thorn said this was not a problem. So, I'm going to be the best man!
I'm getting up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to catch an eight-hour bus to Poipet (which everyone says is the armpit of Cambodia - more on that when I get back). I'll be there for thirty-six hours of wedding celebrations and then it's an eight-hour bus ride back to Phnom Penh. It is sure to be an interesting, photo-worthy and blog-worthy experience.
Anyways, just before the last time I saw him, he informed Sister Shanti and Brother Steven that he was going to get married soon - these things happen quite quickly in Cambodia. Very exciting news indeed and when I had the chance to hang out with Thorn in Battambang last month, we discussed his fiancé and wedding plans in great detail (it sounds much more girly than it was).
The story of how he and his fiancé, Phea, met is worth recounting briefly. Phea, who lives with her family in Poipet - a town on the Thai border - was trying to call her uncle in Battambang, where Brother Thorn resides. Instead of her uncle, she got Thorn. They struck up a conversation and then proceeded to speak on the phone on a daily basis until they could finally meet. They spent several days together in Poipet, with Thorn winning over her family, as well as a short trip to Siem Reap. Phea then met Thorn's parents and all was set in motion for the parents to meet and give the go-ahead for an eventual marriage.
When I saw Thorn in February, the date for the wedding had not yet been set and he was weighing whether the wedding should be very soon - Phea's parents wanted her to be married sooner rather than later, as she had already been courted by several men (despite being only twenty), and was likely to be happiest with Thorn - or towards the end of the year and after he graduates from college and would be able to truly provide for his new wife. They decided to take the fast route and will actually spend the first eight months of their marriage apart, with Thorn finishing his studies in Battambang and Phea living with her family in Poipet (they're about two and a half hours apart). Once Thorn graduates, they will live together wherever Thorn is able to find work.
Fast forward to Wednesday. I received a text messages from my dear Brother Thorn: "Hi my brother, how are you? I'm now staying with my wife Phea. We are cooking together. Hey brother, could you please to be my best man? That would be great if you can do. Please let me know if possible. Blessing."
Me, a best man? At a traditional Khmer wedding? I promptly called Thorn back telling him how honored I was to receive the offer. What, I asked, does being the best man entail? He told me that there was not so much responsibility, but that I would have to change outfits often (the groom changes about ten times during the course of a wedding, the bride even more and the best man matches the groom). Though I am going to be late to the ceremony, which starts at 9:00am on Saturday and continues through Sunday, Thorn said this was not a problem. So, I'm going to be the best man!
I'm getting up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to catch an eight-hour bus to Poipet (which everyone says is the armpit of Cambodia - more on that when I get back). I'll be there for thirty-six hours of wedding celebrations and then it's an eight-hour bus ride back to Phnom Penh. It is sure to be an interesting, photo-worthy and blog-worthy experience.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Africa in Cambodia
The living in
Every week Shanti and I see handful of young African men – it’s always men – wandering around
It took a friendly encounter at Elsewhere’s famous (infamous?) first Friday (of the month) party to find out. As a group of us sat poolside on bamboo mats sipping wine and listening to Elsewhere’s perennially cool music, it unexpectedly started to drizzle. We sought shelter by the covered bar. Our friend Pat struck up a conversation with a Cameroonian named Julio – pronounce the ‘j’ – who was part of a larger group of men from
Part II of Aziza coming soon...
Friday, March 7, 2008
Monsoon in the Dry Season?
It has been several months since it has really "rained" in Phnom Penh, though there have been a few spells of drizzle. That's how it's supposed to be. Cambodia is in the middle of the November to May dry season, where it gets progressively drier and progressively hotter. But last night something strange happened. The Phnom Penh sky darkened at an usually premature hour. The wind picked up speed and it brought with it the incredibly strong scent of rain. Never before did I think that rain could have such a distinctive smell.
At just after 6:00pm, the sky was pitch black and the wind was howling. As it started to rain, I stood on our terrace in both amazement and pleasure, splashing around in the small puddles that were forming like a five year old in galoshes discovering the joy of puddles for the first time. To not have rain for so long and then to have it all of a sudden - and unexpectedly - was surprisingly wonderful. A half hour later and the deafening roar of rain was drowning out all other sound as Shanti and I made dinner. It was so loud that I turned our music off because neither of us could hear it anyway.
Before sitting down to eat, we brought a plate of fruit down to His Excellency's family. His son-in-law, who is incredibly well-traveled and intelligent, yet quite humble, greeted us with his surprise over the rain. "This never happens," he said. "I guess global warming is coming to Cambodia..."
At just after 6:00pm, the sky was pitch black and the wind was howling. As it started to rain, I stood on our terrace in both amazement and pleasure, splashing around in the small puddles that were forming like a five year old in galoshes discovering the joy of puddles for the first time. To not have rain for so long and then to have it all of a sudden - and unexpectedly - was surprisingly wonderful. A half hour later and the deafening roar of rain was drowning out all other sound as Shanti and I made dinner. It was so loud that I turned our music off because neither of us could hear it anyway.
Before sitting down to eat, we brought a plate of fruit down to His Excellency's family. His son-in-law, who is incredibly well-traveled and intelligent, yet quite humble, greeted us with his surprise over the rain. "This never happens," he said. "I guess global warming is coming to Cambodia..."
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
The Aziza Schoolhouse Part I: A Description of Dey Krahom
About two months ago Shanti and I started volunteering at an organization called Aziza, a schoolhouse located in the slums of Dey Krahom (Red Earth). The slums start just after you peel off of Sothearos south of Sihanouk - they're visible from my comfy, air-conditioned office. There is an incredibly long row, perhaps a third of a mile, of bland, austere, dilapidated Soviet style "apartments." A jumbled mess of electric wires and plastic plumbing pipes connect various apartment to one another as they intermingle with plants and drying laundry. Once cement-colored, the outside of the apartments are now dark gray or black and, in some places green and covered in mold where pipes leak. Beside the apartment building is a cobbled together shanty town, with homes made from either whatever was available or affordable - tin, thin strips of wood or bamboo, plastic tarps, etc. Among the shanty dwellings the stench of garbage and sewage is strong and there is rubble everywhere. When Shanti and I bike in, we pedal over garbage, broken bricks, and slabs of cement. Each time we wonder if we'll pop a tire.
Within the last few years, the value of land in Cambodia, and Phnom Penh in particular, has skyrocketed. In the last seven years, one square meter of land has gone from $500 to $3,000. The result is that the powerful and politically connected use their might to acquire valuable land in an unwholesome and unsavory manner, paying off government officials, obtaining "legal" land titles, or simply by evicting residents through brute force and intimidation.
Enter Dey Krahom, in the heart of Phnom Penh's boom and with a prime location literally across the street from the National Assembly. Three years ago, a supposed spokesman for the residents of Dey Krahom - who didn't have the authority to be such a spokesman - agreed to a deal with construction company 7NG to vacate the Dey Krahom area in exchange for land twenty kilometers from the city and a few thousand dollars, a raw deal for residents sitting on land worth an estimated $44 million. Since then, there have been a number of incidents involving 7NG officials in collaboration with the police, resulting in injuries to residents and further intimidation. Some think the effort to provoke the residents of Dey Krahom is a pretense to have them arrested and thus, evicted. In the past several months a number of structures have been destroyed at random, including, in November 2007 (before Shanti and I started volunteering), the schoolhouse originally occupied by Aziza. The destruction of the remaining shanty homes and the apartment buildings, and the souls that occupy them, seems imminent, especially now that the construction company has legal title to at least some of the land in Dey Krahom. For more information on the case, a local human rights NGO, LICADHO, recently issued a very interesting and troubling report.
Unfortunately, Dey Krahom is by no means an isolated case. All across Cambodia and especially in rapidly developing and resource-rich areas, such as Phnom Penh, Siem Reap, Sihanoukville (on the beach), and Rattanakiri and Mondulkiri in the northeast, poor and vulnerable villagers are at risk of losing their lands and livelihoods. It is one of the most pressing issues facing Cambodia today and the only resolution in sight for those facing eviction is just that.
Within the last few years, the value of land in Cambodia, and Phnom Penh in particular, has skyrocketed. In the last seven years, one square meter of land has gone from $500 to $3,000. The result is that the powerful and politically connected use their might to acquire valuable land in an unwholesome and unsavory manner, paying off government officials, obtaining "legal" land titles, or simply by evicting residents through brute force and intimidation.
Enter Dey Krahom, in the heart of Phnom Penh's boom and with a prime location literally across the street from the National Assembly. Three years ago, a supposed spokesman for the residents of Dey Krahom - who didn't have the authority to be such a spokesman - agreed to a deal with construction company 7NG to vacate the Dey Krahom area in exchange for land twenty kilometers from the city and a few thousand dollars, a raw deal for residents sitting on land worth an estimated $44 million. Since then, there have been a number of incidents involving 7NG officials in collaboration with the police, resulting in injuries to residents and further intimidation. Some think the effort to provoke the residents of Dey Krahom is a pretense to have them arrested and thus, evicted. In the past several months a number of structures have been destroyed at random, including, in November 2007 (before Shanti and I started volunteering), the schoolhouse originally occupied by Aziza. The destruction of the remaining shanty homes and the apartment buildings, and the souls that occupy them, seems imminent, especially now that the construction company has legal title to at least some of the land in Dey Krahom. For more information on the case, a local human rights NGO, LICADHO, recently issued a very interesting and troubling report.
Unfortunately, Dey Krahom is by no means an isolated case. All across Cambodia and especially in rapidly developing and resource-rich areas, such as Phnom Penh, Siem Reap, Sihanoukville (on the beach), and Rattanakiri and Mondulkiri in the northeast, poor and vulnerable villagers are at risk of losing their lands and livelihoods. It is one of the most pressing issues facing Cambodia today and the only resolution in sight for those facing eviction is just that.
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