Sunday, August 17, 2008

A Weekend with His Excellency

Earlier this week, His Excellency approached Shanti, inviting us to join him in Kampot for a celebration of his recent electoral victory. Though we had planned to go to Phum Ampil in Svay Rieng with Shanti's friend Peter, who was in town for a few days, the idea of celebrating anything with His Excellency was too good to pass up.

Throughout the week we gathered additional information about the trip and the celebration: that the whole family would be there, that we could dress casually, and that we could get a ride down to Kampot on Saturday morning - hopefully in the Lexus. His Excellency's grandchildren were incredibly excited about the possibility of being able to dance and play with us and we were looking forward to another trip into the unknown and perhaps at gaining some additional insight into our landlord's life and family.

On Saturday morning, after running a few errands, we met on the ground floor of the house. His Excellency had gone to Kampot on Friday and his daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren had already left. A bit after 10:45, a van with "State" plates pulled up and we were ushered inside. Through a mix of Khmer and English, we found out that we were sharing the van with part of the National Assembly's media team, including a photographer and a videographer. We sped down to Kampot at roughly 100km/h, bouncing around in the back of the van, much to the amusement of the driver.

A lunch stop, three bathroom stops, and about four hours of jostling later, we passed through Kampot town and, several kilometers beyond, pulled on to a dirt road to a guesthouse. About a half kilometer further, the road forked to the right and we saw His Excellency's Lexus as well as the son-in-law's car. We were a bit confused: had His Excellency booked out the guesthouse for us and his family?

When we got out of the van, we were immediately greeted by His Excellency's wife and his English-speaking granddaughter who lives in Sihanoukville. Again, through a mix of English and Khmer, we learned that in addition to owning the beautiful riverfront land that the guesthouse sits on, they have an expansive fruit plantation for a total of about ten acres. We were shown to our incredibly nice bungalow with a cement frame, thatch roof and wooden porch, jutting out over the river. The view was phenomenal and, as with most trips to southern Cambodia, we were immediately relaxed. As we were chatting, the granddaughter was sent away and returned a moment later with two dozen fresh bananas.

After settling in a little, we wandered around the property. The fruit plantation was very impressive: a mix of bananas, mangoes, papayas, longyens, mangosteens, pomelos, milkfruit, jackfruit, durian, and several kinds of fruit we couldn't name. It quickly became quite clear why they like spending so much time there and, I must admit, we felt a bit foolish for not having made the time to join them sooner.

As we took a more thorough tour of the guesthouse, we chatted with the owner, who agreed that it would be incredibly difficult to find better landlords. He also went on to describe His Excellency's wife's fondness for the fruit plantation, saying that most days she's around she wades into the fruit trees in her pajamas and with a sickle and that she knows each plant on the ten acres. Following our chat we went in search of His Excellency's house. It was a bit off the river amidst fruit trees and definitely one of the coolest houses I've seen in Cambodia. It was made entirely of wood and had three levels - very unusual for rural Cambodia - with most of the space outside and only a few interior rooms. His Excellency's wife welcomed us inside, family members spilling over on all levels and the grandchildren splayed out asleep on the top floor. After a quick tour of the house, His Excellency's wife gave us her version of the tour of the plantation; it was evident how proud she was.

Sitting on the porch of our bungalow, we enjoyed some of the deliciously sweet and fresh bananas and relaxed before the evening's celebration. The English speaking granddaughter came to practice her English with us for a little while, informing us that the party tonight was going to be a big one, with three or four families and perhaps twenty-one people. After a bit more relaxing, we got dressed for the evening, with Peter and me in khakis and short-sleeve collared shirts and Shanti in a skirt. As we wandered out to the cars, we felt quite under-dressed. All of the men were in dress slacks, closed-toe shoes, and most were wearing long-sleeve button-down shirts. We shrugged and set off into Kampot town.

After crossing the bridge from the far side of the river, we took the first right. Immediately, we could see that the street was lined with dozens of shiny black Lexus SUVs and Mercedes sedans. The van stopped and we were ushered out and into the venue, a Chinese school, by a security guard. There were already several hundred people present, most dressed far from casual ,including more people wearing ties in one place than I've seen in the last year combined. As we were taken to our table, everyone turned to look at the barangs; we were, of course, the only white people around and it would remain so for the duration of the evening. We sat at our table in awe of how big the event was - there was a band set up, seating for about 500, and a VIP stage and table. We wondered who else would be making an appearance besides His Excellency.

Seats continued to fill as it approached 5:30. Then the cameras rushed to the entrance to capture the entrance of the first VIP. It was His Excellency, looking very sharp in a Chinese-style black bureaucrats uniform. He was followed by his entire family and many others in an entourage of several dozen. The cameras followed his entrance and it was not until then that we realized that the whole event - the cameras, the 500 people, the band - was for His Excellency. After handshakes and hellos, he took his place on stage and in Khmer, an emcee welcomed everyone.

Over the next half hour, we gathered a general understanding of the proceedings; basically, a listing of who had donated what to the party over the previous year. Then, His Excellency gave a speech. We didn't really have any idea what he was talking about, but we were surprised to discover how good a speaker he was. He seemed to place emphasis in all of the right places and his words were well accentuated by his hand motions. We were definitely impressed. His Excellency's speech was followed by a ceremony in which envelopes, presumably with money in them, were handed out to fervent party supporters and a number of guests received medals, including one of His Excellency's sons.

And then the beer began to flow. Each table of eight was given either one or two cases of beer, which quickly made it in to the glasses and then the bellies of those sitting around it. In Cambodian culture it is impolite to take a sip of your drink without first inviting those at your table to join and it is equally impolite - practically impossible - to refuse an invitation. Therefore, every time that you want to take even a sip, it becomes a long, drawn-out cheers, which can often lead to a "lug die" or bottom's up. Over the course of dinner - about an hour and a half - I'm pretty sure that our table went through close to two cases and it left us a bit, well, intoxicated.

And then there was lots of dancing. We joined most of His Excellency's family in dancing around a table in the traditional Cambodian style. As we did so, we inevitably got laughs and pointers from other guests, including a particularly jolly taa (grandfather) and yay (grandmother), who gave Peter a solid pat on the behind. We continued to dance for some time and before we knew it, almost everyone had left and most of the tables and chairs had been packed away. Despite this, we continued to dance, even unsuccessfully trying to persuade His Excellency's driver and grandchildren to join us. At the rather premature hour of 9:00 the party ended and we piled back into the van, where our fun continued. We took silly pictures and, for some reason, started a round of 99 bottles of beer on the wall (we made it to 74 by the time we got back).

Before departing on Sunday morning, there was a beautiful sunrise over the river and Peter went for a quick swim across the river for an impressive back flip off a rope swing (yes, it looked awesome). We had to leave a bit early in order for Peter to catch his flight back to the US, but we will certainly be back, though I can't imagine that there will be as big a party next time...

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