Travelling in the northwest

Last week was Pchum Ben, one of the longer Cambodian public holidays and a religious festival which I still don’t really understand, except that it involves lots of parties at the pagodas. I went to the northwest with Dave and two of his colleagues, Phinet and Sharon, to visit Preah Vihear temple on the Thai border.

The four of us in Preah Vihear province

Preah Vihear is one of the most important of the Angkorian temples and probably very beautiful, although it was so foggy we couldn’t see it. Perhaps more significantly, though, it’s been the source of conflict between the Thais and Cambodians for decades because, although it was officially recognised as Cambodian by the UN in 1962, the only access was from the Thai side, leaving them effectively in control. In 1979 it was the scene of “the worst forced repatriation in UN history”, as Thailand marched thousands of Cambodian refugees fleeing from the starvation caused by the Khmer Rouge back over the border. And more recently, the ownership issue resurfaced when UNESCO awarded the site world heritage status and Cambodia built a tarmac road; this, coupled with Thai political instability and a flare-up of nationalism in both countries, led to fighting earlier this year, with several soldiers killed. There has been no fighting since February though, and the temple has been reopened to tourists.

Before we got there we had a night in Siem Reap followed by a drive up to Anlong Veng, a town close to the Thai border and the last Khmer Rouge stronghold. It was controlled by them right up until 1998 and is the resting place of many of its leaders, including Pol Pot and Ta Mok. It wasn’t an unpleasant town and people were friendly enough, but I couldn’t help wondering what kind of things they’d got up to, and what on earth they’d been thinking for so long. After lunch we visited Ta Mok’s house, a weird place because, alongside the cages where Khmer Rouge prisoners were kept, there were groups of people having picnics. Then we drove almost to the Thai border to see the cremation site of Pol Pot – he died mysteriously and was cremated the same day. It was raining and felt appropriately grim, a large mound of grey earth covered by a simple tin roof.

It was a nice drive to Sra Em, a town about 25km from the temple where we stayed the night, went to a Pchum Ben party at the pagoda, and left around 6.30 for the temple.  

The area was heavily militarised, with lots of army buildings including one with about eight tanks, and when we reached the temple after a very steep drive, there were over a thousand soldiers stationed there. I wasn’t expecting this at all but, although the fighting is over, neither side is withdrawing its troops until the other side does. A group of soldiers offered to take us round and handed us a gun, saying we could hold it. Being a bit clumsy and wary of accidentally restarting a war, we declined. I did think though that there can’t be many national armies who, on the frontline of a warzone, would offer their guns to passing tourists. Of course, Dave and I weren’t just tourists but had military experience: at the age of 15 I did four days work experience at Altcar army training camp, and Dave once did an army fun day at school. We wondered whether to ask if they wanted us to get them some tips.

The soldiers took us round the whole site, showing us bunkers dug into the temple walls, the sandbags marking the border, the Thai military camps on the other side, and some of the damage done to the temple by Thai shooting. 

The sandbag wall is the official border

Bunkers dug into the temple walls

I’m not generally inclined to like soldiers very much, but I had lots of admiration for the ones we met. They were warm and friendly, had been there a long time without being able to see their families, and were sincere in their commitment to their country without being excessively nationalistic – they said that they no longer had a problem with Thailand since the recent change of government. And when Dave (who says he gets uncomfortable with lulls in the conversation and says wildly inappropriate things) asked if they found it difficult being so far from a karaoke bar – synonymous in Cambodia with casual prostitution – they didn’t get offended and just said that their work was more important. They didn’t even get angry when Dave when one step further and asked if they liked Thai food. 

Dave and Phinet

Three of them took us round and stayed with us the whole time, so afterwards we bought them lunch to say thank you. Dave later told me he’d come really close to asking the man serving us if they had Thai Green Curry; luckily he managed not to, and we left them on good terms. They’d been really good to us, although presumably really bored as they’d followed us around for three hours.

We drove in the rain back through Sra Em towards Tbaeng Meanchey, the capital of Preah Vihear province, which had nothing much there apart from a great bakery with the best bread I’ve had in Cambodia. We left the next morning and, after visiting a few pagodas on the way, we went back to Kampong Thom, where Dave lives. Phinet invited us for a Pchum Ben party at his cousin’s house which was fun, and the following day I left for Phnom Penh. Overall it was a great week and really fun to do some travelling again. And I’m glad that, the day after Dave’s leaving party, he decided to accept a three-month placement in Phnom Penh, so he won’t be leaving after all. 

School enrolment campaigns

Apologies for not having written anything for such a long time. Things have actually been quite busy at work, even though it’s still the school holidays. As well as helping the VSO staff set up new placements in good governance and health for next year, we have had lots of workshops and, more recently, have been working on school enrolment campaigns. These take place during the last fortnight of September to sensitise parents and communities about sending their children to school. The weather this week has been terrible, though, and we haven’t always been able to attend the campaigns, but we did go to one at Pu Tang village on Tuesday. 

This was organised by the school director and they didn’t have a banner, but there was quite a good turnout from the children, who walked through the village with a loudspeaker and posters. It was nice when other children came out of their houses to join them.

The walk was about an hour and the girl in the picture above (who I think came up to my knee) managed the whole thing. I felt very sorry for her though as she probably has to do this another three or four times before she’s old enough to enrol herself.

We’ve also made a leaflet with ideas for community involvement which we are distributing to all the schools. And one day in August we had chicken, which is a very rare occasion as it’s expensive here. They’re slightly cheaper if you buy them alive, so we did, although I didn’t enjoy driving him home: he wriggled a bit and broke my eggs. I hope they weren’t related. At home I put him in the spare room, gave him a plate of uncooked rice and called him James; Tak and Eng slit his throat, plucked and gutted him. James nearly had the last laugh though as he’d left a bit of poo inside which the murderers got all over their hands. But he wasn’t laughing when he came out of Jeltje’s oven.

Anyway, I think I mentioned in my last post that my placement is being extended until March 2011. As a result I’ve decided to step back from Cambodia’s collective alcohol problem, which until now I’ve been participating in quite enthusiastically. I’d always thought it was impolite to say no, and that a year wouldn’t do much harm, but now that I’m staying longer I’m going to be more careful – especially as times are hard and we can usually only afford the lethal 70% rice wine. (Last time I think it burned through some of the lining of my stomach and gave me acid indigestion for days, so I’ve given it up completely.)

Next week it’s Pchum Ben which is a big holiday in Cambodia and most people go back to their home villages. Mine’s a bit far away (although I’ll be home from 17-30^th December), so I think I’m going with Dave to Preah Vihear which is a famous temple on the Thai border. I haven’t been to the northwest year apart from a short trip to Siem Reap so that should be good.      

Changes

VSO is currently finalising its new strategic plan for Cambodia and it’s likely that they will start working on good governance at national, provincial and district levels. As public services are currently being devolved to district level (at least in theory), VSO will be able to combine this with continued support for health and education: volunteers will work in small teams with some supporting public services and others supporting district councils to administer these services effectively and to improve democratic accountability. I think it will be a big challenge for VSO to work in this area as Cambodia’s culture of deference as well as widespread corruption makes democratic development very difficult, but it’s also probably the single thing needed to help move the country forward.

VSO is also planning to reduce its geographical presence to the four poorest provinces in the east, including Mondulkiri, so there will be more volunteers here over the next few years. The good news for me is that it is likely that I will be able to extend my placement for five months to continue the work on education as well as help set up the new volunteer placements, which will begin next March. As the alternative is the miserable thought of supply teaching until next September, I think I’m keen to accept.

It’s also good that Tak will keep his job and will then have new volunteers to work with in March. We might need to clarify our respective roles, though, as I definitely feel there’s been some confusion in the volunteer/volunteer assistant working relationship. In fact I think I might be the victim of some highly exploitative working practices: as well as chopping down trees to clear his land, I also seem to be expected to build his house. Last month we went to Bousra to collect wood (not from the forest, I mean; from his cousin who he’d already bought it from). I thought it was nice of him to ask me along, and was imagining a nice trip to the countryside, and maybe a break at the waterfall on the way back. For some reason it didn’t occur to me that lifting and carrying enough wood to build a family-sized house might not be that much fun. It wasn’t, especially when we arrived back in Sen Monorom and realised we had to do it all again, unloading the wood, which took hours and hours. There were 294 planks of wood altogether, and there were no Mars Bars to help us get through it.

The sad news this week is that Ingran is leaving. He’s given up Cambodia for the bright lights of Watford, so it can’t be long before he’s back. But still, we’ll miss him in the meantime. Last week lots of people from our original September 2010 group came down to Phnom Penh to see him off. He's awesome and Cambodia won't be the same without him. 

Food

We have been out of Mars bars for about two weeks now, and it’s beginning to show, with the ever-tactful Tak’s mum telling me I’m thin and don’t look good anymore.

(Incidentally, VSO has recently moved to new a office but my postal address – VSO Cambodia, PO Box 912, Phnom Penh, Cambodia – remains the same. Just in case anyone’s interested.)

So until somebody is kind enough to send more, I’ve been embracing Cambodian snacks. These are mostly insects which Cambodians developed a taste for during the desperate Khmer Rouge years when people would eat whatever they could to avoid starvation. They are also mostly disgusting.

I’d already had deep-fried crickets, which mercifully taste much more of deep-fried than they do of crickets, and silkworms, which are sloppy and revolting, as well as the famous pon tea kone – a boiled duck egg with a half-formed and slightly hairy foetus. And last weekend in Phnom Penh I was drunk enough to find myself eating ants cooked with garlic and chilli. Worse was to come, though: at one of the stops on the bus ride back with Tak and his mum, I bought pineapple and water, and they came back with tarantulas. The legs were fine, tasting a bit like twiglets, but the body nearly made me sick. 

Before...

... and after.

Still, I felt satisfied that Cambodian cuisine had nothing more it could throw at me, saying to Tak that the only thing I still hadn’t eaten was a cow’s penis. 

He looked knowingly at me, smiled and said, ‘Oh yes you have.’

June

This week I had my first ever dream about teaching that wasn’t a nightmare, so I think that means I might be missing it. Nonetheless, work has picked up over the last few weeks, and on Monday we had a really good open day at Pu Trom Chah school. We went with fairly low expectations as the director isn’t always very reliable, but they did a great job, with the children performing plays and model lessons, the community arranging a Punong blessing of the new library, and families bringing food to share with everyone.

We also went to Sreiee for a community meeting about the dropouts, and had lots of fun driving through the very muddy roads.

And this weekend we’re also going to Phnom Penh to buy library books for a school called Pu Choo which we’re just starting to work with. As the school year is about to end, lots of the activities in our plan will need to wait till next year, so libraries is something we can work on over the next few months. In September and October we’ll begin focusing on enrolment campaigns and school openings.

I thought I’d start by writing a few paragraphs about work, as someone pointed out that most of my blogs are about drinking. Also a bit concerning is the fact that the beer seller near Tak’s house in Phnom Penh knows me by name, and that when I was walking past a shop on the way to Jeltje’s house the other day, the woman shouted, ‘Whisky? Beer?’ (I think I’ll get Tak to do the shopping in future.)

Anyway, the past few weekends have been lots of fun, especially Ingran’s birthday weekend when he and Gilly came by bike to Mondulkiri. They were welcomed by a delicious Cambodian beef soup that Eng has taught me to make, and it wasn’t until a few days later that I remembered that Ingran doesn’t eat beef. Still, nothing like a bowl of plain white rice to celebrate a 30^th birthday.  

We had a walk in the rain to a waterfall before coming back to a house party. This was the biggest one we’ve had and was lots of fun, although since then Gilly and Ingran have been spreading lies and photoshopped pictures, which you can see at www.ourvso.com and http://ingran.wordpress.com.

Sadly not everyone managed to stay as sober as me.

We spent the following day eating about seven meals and drinking lots of tea, before going to the Sea Forest for some fresh air.