I am proud to announce that i am now 100% free from products of such arrogant, ignorant nation. I have been trying to find the equivalent products from time to time. Now i say i can use products of the insatiate greedy thief if only they are willing to give me free! 
and what about you? how many percents have you achieved so far?
What is that again? Kampong Som!
That was August 29, 2009 and it was another trip with my classmates. Apparently, this was the last occasion for us because we have just finished the final exam; however, we will try to keep in touch and would arrange for other trip someday again. As I have been very busy recently, I cannot get a time to write the full journal for this trip. I would like to list only the points that I didn’t like and like during the trip.
A list of things that I didn’t like during the trip:
Now come the things like during the trip:
Finally, may Buddha bless Huot’s father on his further traveling.
AND NEVER FORGET TO SAY ‘I LOVE YOU ALL’
CJCC, Phnom Penh. This view compensated my lengthy waiting for the van.
Another view taken while waiting for the second van.
This was taken when we arrived at the Bamboo island.
This view was taken by Rasmei. To get here, we had to walk across a jungle on the Bamboo island. The beach here was much more clean and beautiful. Not so many people got here – may be they didn’t realize about this. So, thanks to Vannak for knowing about this secrete.
And this is how the beach looks. The first place we arrived on the island, and where many people were playing, is behind this mountain. There was no route along the beach to get here, but walking across a jungle. Photo by Rasmei.
By: Keth Bunthouen, April 2009
kbunthouen@yahoo.com
Essay to Consider
Writer’s note: This writing is not of my real life. Truth to tell, it is of one of my neighbors whose his life is exactly what you are about to read.
The word ‘Poverty’ is not easily defined since it is subjective in terms of diverse human races and standards of living. Here I will precisely define such term in accordance with what appears to me as the poverty-stricken. When you read this text, no mercifulness is needed, for it helps me nothing.
What is poverty? Easy question. Poverty is getting up in the morning without a well fit. It is toilet located in the nearby forest or in the lake. Poverty is going bathing in the near river and brushing my dark, captive teeth most of the time with no toothpaste but salt – a natural one I can afford. It is breakfast as the left from the previous night or occasionally is breakfast known as Cambodian noodle whose price is not over 500 riels – the only cost I can sometimes but not always manage to pay for.
Poverty is going, after such unlikely breakfast, to work in the distance of 8 kilometers by my traditionally old rusty Cambodia-style bike. It is reaching the workplace awash with stinking sweat because of the absence of roll-on. Poverty is workplace as a construction building. It is mixing cements, laying bricks from morning until 11 a.m. with my stomach fiercely crawling with hunger. More importantly, poverty is working construction invariably under typical, careful scrutinizing from the house owner with unlovable eye contact.
Poverty is the lunch of insufficient rice with malnutrient food, and it is continuing such tough work until the dusk because of extra time.
Poverty then is riding home packed with dinner costing less than 3000 riels. It is arriving at a dark cottage equipped with no electricity but an old kerosene lamp, shimmering the household. Poverty is having a bath at night in the near river with the fright of water ghost and bringing home a tub of unclean water for being readily available. It is sleeping in the dim on a mat without bed, with aged smelly pillow followed by uncomfortable ragged blanket and ready to move in case the rain comes. Poverty is sleeping with the dream of being in high need, being disgusting and being inferior. What is more, it is sleeping with consideration of the have-to-do work the following days.
Poverty however is also the smell of happiness when the rain pelts. It is costing some times at night to hunt for frogs and toads for faintly income but spending much Riels for my influenza the next day.
The absence of television, stereo, and even a tiny radio is termed poverty. You may sacrifice me a radio, and it is very kind of you.. Yet, who will pay for the battery? I in fact cannot. You say you are, but will you ceaselessly do it? You of course could not.
Poverty is a dark cracked mouth with appalling smell, an unwanted face with scores of dark moles, and the ears constantly echoed by the word POOR whenever my dull brain starts thinking about romantic love. It is the cottage at which monks never ever stop for collecting alms, the cottage whose impoverished owner has never been invited for any party or ceremony but the cottage that gets every unwelcome glance from the passers-by.
There are more. Poverty is quitting school at 8 grade not because of money but its shortage. Quitting school because the rich students’ vigorous but nasty eyes are vindictive to the old shabby clothes on my dark callous body. Quitting school because stomach is more vital than sporadic education.
Poverty is the gesture that is clumsy, the speech uninfluential, and the joke unfunny. Also, it is the face that is unfriendly and the feeling that is of lowliness.
Poverty is delicious food only when the Pchum Ben turns up, and it is an hideous person carrying the left foods from pagoda, at which is mocked by the heartless neighbors.
Simplification to notify, poverty is not everything but almost all the things that cannot be done without the presence of MONEY.
‘The rich can choose to be poor, but
the poor cannot choose to be rich.’
It has now been a regular habit which the teamwork at Ponleu Sokhapheap need to get a volunteer to work for 1 to 3 hours a day. And I have not been having so much inspiration to work because I really don’t want to see that volunteer working. When I arrived at the office I sometimes spoke to myself, “Hmmm, if you really have to work, I’d rather that you worked in the morning because it is not so hot.”
And yes! It seemed like my thought had been reported. I wondered, “Hee, is this a divine-ear government? How could you hear my thought?” I started work; and it was just nearly 9am and, “Tit! Tit!…” the UPSs in the organization screamed altogether. “OK, go on your song, Mr UPS. I need to go down stair for recharging.”
After having sipped the morning coffee, I was now very well like superman (wearing trousers over underpants, not underpants over trousers like the silly superman in the movie) again. Taking The Cambodia Daily and scanning through for some interesting titles, I heard the mentioned volunteer starting his performance. I looked at him and gave some verbal reward, “Ah buddy, earlier you work occasionally. Now you work every day. I am expecting that you may be promoted as a fulltime staff. And then that I would die soon because I almost get sick sometimes when I work without air-con for few hours.”
It is said that Buddha will not open his eyes watching a man dying. Seeing our suffering, he ultimately revived the air-con to substitute the exhausted fan. “Gosh! It is 11am already! Excellent job, government.” Spending one more hour to work, we were able to go for lunch.
At the maximum heat, the Sun was perfectly generating his marvelous power to kill all creatures on earth. I could smell my body burning when I arrived at my smallest home of the year. Walking pass by the radio, I heard a piece of news about the shortage of water use at an area in the suburb. The exact speech of a villager was also reported. She said she hadn’t got enough water. They only let her use water for some times in a day. At this point, I interrupted and protested her angrily, “Oh no, why don’t you get some water containers to make some reserves? I can’t see it is really a crisis! You shouldn’t have whined about this. Look at my problem, how can I get a container to reserve the electricity? OK, no matter how I protest, you are not listening to me. I’d better have my lunch.”
My sister joined the lunch. I asked her if the area she worked had been experiencing the same problem. Then she asked me as if she had had a solution, “Do you want permanent electricity?” “Hee, why not?” I answered her eagerly, expecting for a way out. “Then you just move your office to be near Lork Thom’s [1]. They won’t cut the electricity off in such location.” “Onh?!” I got shot by an arrow, but I managed to recover, “But my workplace is near Mohamontrey pagoda. There are many Lork Thom [2] there; why do I still have the electricity cut off every day?” “Onh?! Silly!….”
Before long, the two nice-looking Siem Reap girls arrived with their two motorbikes. I got one with Sear while the two pretties got the other one. Just some meters’ long, Samnang finally called me: “Halo, where are you now? Please come take me at Phsar Chas bus station. I’m almost there!” “Oh ho, Samnang is also coming!” I exclaimed. Then, Sear asked the cute guides to lead us to the bus station.
We reached the bus station before the bus. “Park your motorbike carefully, boys. That is the car coming from behind you. Or you don’t want to get back home and meet your girlfriend?” one of the pretties alerted us pointing at a car turning right at the junction. I managed the motorbike to give more space for the road and replied her, “Oh, wish I have one.” “You just misunderstood, girl. In fact, they are two gays,” said a smiling young woman nearby drawing her motorbike and drove away. “Onh!?!” I and Sear puzzled.
“Oh ho, there he is!” I called out and pointed at a thin, charming tanned guy waving from inside the bus. “What on earth are you doing? Why didn’t you come with us in the morning? You’ve just spent twice on bus ticket. We insisted on your presence, but you denied; and now that you come alone. Poor you, man.” “I was really not able to come with you. I needed to look after the house while people were constructing the road.” “So have they finished?” “Not yet. I left my grandfather working alone.” “Oh, what did he react then?” “He was shocked and puzzled when I told him I’m leaving.”
Now everybody was gathering at the guest house. There were seven Siem Reap immigrants: I, Sear, Thoeun, Samnang, Sopheak, Sonthara and Vuth; and five Siem Reap residents: Phy, and his old friend Phea, the two pretties, and a newly introduced Chamroeun. It was really helpful to have some residents joined our fun time. This way we could have guides and we got more laughing from them. In addition, and probably a much saving factor, we had more than enough motorbikes from them shared to us.
Some people were playing pool, and I was also one of the crazy shooters. Stunned by Phea, the only female player, who was shooting ball after ball, we stood waiting and looking at the foreigners learning to speak Khmer under a bit alcoholic influence. I was not sure how it would affect the foreigners’ perception on Khmer when they are taught some naughty words by Khmer guys. Having waited a little long, and now it was my turn. While preparing to shot, I was called out to be ready for the next travelling. “One more!” I answered them.
After the immigrants refilled their public account, they started to draw their motorbikes with confidence, ignoring the fact that they might have to eat more calcium for some months afterward. I managed to occupy one of the motorbikes while Sonthara and Sear were getting on with me. Terrifyingly, Sopheak who was the leader on another bike was swerving along the quiet road in the nightfall even before taking any alcohol. “Oh Buddha, please save me!” Thoeun and Samnang screamed with half crying and half laughing from Sopheak’s back, not sure if it was his fun or danger, “Please let me drive if you are not well.” “Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry, boys. You will be there eating your soup.”
“From the left: Thoeun, Sonthara, Samnang, Me and Sear. The five lonely guys were having a big debate on a topic: ‘who is the ugliest in the group?’ Everyone was claiming that they are the ugliest. This debate happened after they had invoked a Khmer saying: ‘The ugly matches the pretty; white matches black.’ So we have the honor to propose the audiences to vote for the winner in such debate…”
Unleashing the signers was the last activity for that night. We went to Top Town to sing, and probably to shout. At first we were all in a room which looked too crowded although it was large already. Then, I requested to have two rooms due to the reason that there would not be enough chance for people to sing their songs and more importantly, some of us really wanted to shout, not to sing. As the result, Preap Sowath(s), Sapoun Midada, Sok Reaksa came to another room, leaving Sin Sisamuth(s) and Ros Sereisothea(s) in the other room.
“I, Phy and Sear.”
Now it was free for Hang Meas superstars to sing in whatever way they like regardless of somebody could not catch the rhythm of the song. Preap Sowath(s) dominated the show after people had ordered many of his songs. Sok Reaksa was stiffly awoken when he heard his song: “សំបុត្រស្នេហ៍ក្នុងកន្រ្តកកង់អូន A love letter in the basket of bicycle” and then Sonthara started his only song in the night. ABC seemed to have less influence on the superstars’ voice; everyone was still able to shout for song after song. Not until having seen the bill did the signers’ voice turn hoarse.
“Where are you now?” a text message from Samnang when we ate in a restaurant in front of Angkor. Sear had a phone call from his friend living in Siem Reap. “We gonna have two motorbikes!” Sear told us when he hung up the phone. After meal some people wanted to go in while three of us – Sear, Thoeun, and I – decided to wait for the motorbikes outside on the stony bridge connecting to the extreme wonder main site. “Where are you now? I hope I can enjoy with you tonight,” another text message from Samnang.
Me: Hey, I think Samnang regrets now.
Thoeun: Let me see the text! I think it sounds like he is coming to meet us. What do you think?
Sear: It is hard to believe, but it would be brilliant.
Me: By the way, what I like most of here is that this is much more peaceful comparing to Phnom Penh, isn’t it?
Thoeun: Yes, sure. Phnom Penh is not safe at all. The robbers could appear at any time, and it is rare the police can get them.
Me: To be fair, Phnom Penh is also good in terms of greening the city. Admittedly, we would find it difficult to get a place to play shuttlecock every weekend evening if they don’t care about this. And they are expanding and repairing more parks. More importantly, the statues of the highest honored monk Chuon Nath, the greatest Khmer literary man ever; and the greatest poem writer and singer Krom Ngoy, are being built. By the way, what do you think about the way people dressing in here? I notice that people in here dress in an acceptable way.
Sear: Yes, that looks more pleasant to the eyes. They know how to beautify in Khmer tradition, particularly girls. Unlike those in the poisoned Phnom Penh, the girls here dress fashionably and pleasantly.
Me: Many girls in Phnom Penh are deteriorating the whole structure in the way of dressing at too high sex appeal. Some girls dress and behave exactly like a prostitute. I am still wondering how they feel about themselves.
Thoeun: Those might be real prostitutes, who knows? More schoolgirls behave like bitches. We can’t distinguish. It is assumed that some schoolgirls gather at a certain place, at a regular time to offer their service – the only way they could do to earn extra money besides their parents’ for just having fun – which costs from $20 to $30. Will you call them schoolgirls?
Me: Hm, this is a bit so strong to them, but it is the truth. Don’t know how it’s gonna be in the future, city girls. Sometimes I think Khmer Rouge is not really that bad in a way of controlling the rebels.
Thoeun: Oh yes, my elder neighbor said that, too. And I think she is right. The morality of the society is being destroyed by some people, and the rest could not help – unless we all help. By giving them too much freedom, they don’t realize that they’re doing bad things. That’s why Khmer Rouge is good about this point. Nobody would behave like a bitch in the public. Nobody would take advantages on others – no robbery.
Sear: No jerk would freely hit the people and their properties by ignorantly playing football on the park like a real pitch; they kick freely and violently. Everyday they hit people on the park; everyday they hit people’s car on the road; they don’t even say sorry. Where the heck were they born?
Me: Nobody would aggressively drive car that could kill people and damage the public properties. I am not counting those who are alcoholic influenced, but what even worse is that the driver is in-born hostile and ill-mannered. What I am really ashamed to speak about is that even our lecturer, who is apparently considered well-educated, swerved his car when he was exiting the school gate and crossing the road. In conclusion, I would give some credits to Khmer Rouge regime for they were somehow defending their structure from such rebellious behaviors. But what really takes my consideration is that I was very shocked and disappointed when I found out that some children don’t even believe when their parents told them the nightmare story which took millions of life. For me, I would still believe them if my parents were to lie me about this. At least I took their pain into my heart. But it is real, anyway! We cannot reject! We have both alive-documents and death-documents about such evil regime. It is absolutely not propaganda for any party; it is the history, Khmer history – what you must know!
Thoeun: Oh, the children you just mentioned about were when we saw the Khmer Rouge documentary in Chenla theatre? Yes, I think so. They really hurt their parents by not believing the fact, but they have rights not to believe.
Sear: But at last those children believed after people showed them the evidences. As I remember, Cheung Ek prison museum was one of the evidences they proved.
Me: Ah, yes! You hit the nail on the head, Sear. Emotion and evidence. I beleive my parents by emotionally sharing their painful expericences. And those children believe their parents only if they are shown the evidences. Oh, I was really sorry when I knew that the man who had called us to go in but we denied is Mr. Reach Sambath. Many times did he insist that we go in, but we just didn’t give him enough respect. Hahah, I’m really ashamed to recall this.
Thoeun: Yes, we denied because we didn’t know who he is, and also we had been unable to find enough seat until he made some coordination.
Sear: Oh, he is good at giving speech.
We talked and talked while looking at the people passing by, particularly girls. Then we saw the rest companions were coming back. “What should we do since we haven’t got the motorbikes yet?” I asked the two people. “Hm, let some people go first, and some wait for the motorbikes,” Sear suggested. “Thoeun, could you go with them? I want to drive motorbike,” I requested Thoeun. “Oh, that’s Ok.”
“Get up, Boran! You gotta work,” called my mom in the morning. “Erm…. Yes, I hear you,” I answered with a yawn. I prepared things, put in my books to the bag and brought it down, and took a shower. “Horoscope for the dog sign for December 21, 2007. You are lucky. It says you get a pride today,” spoke the radio while I was in the bathroom. “A pride?” I asked myself, “Are you saying my boss is going to give me a bonus, Mr. radio? Oh, increasing salary?”
I left radio to talk alone and started the motorbike. When I got very close to the workplace I saw the watchman was powering the generator machine. “Damn, you’re an economic government, you really are! So good at saving,” I talked to myself. Then, I prepared my two-year-out-of-date Dream in place. “Oh, we have no electric in the early morning today, hahha,” I said and laughed with the watchman. He answered, “Yeah, may be because we had it cut off yesterday in the afternoon.” I was not sure if he just wanted to support or tease me more.
I went upstairs to the office. Opening the door, I greeted colleague and turned on my beloved brand Dell. While I was waiting for him to start, I stood with my hands on the hip looking at the running fan and the sleeping LG air-con. “A friend in deed is a friend in need,” I spoke to myself, this time looking at the fan only, and nodded to him as if he could accept my appreciation. Then Mr. Dell allowed me to go on my work. A little while, I felt I need my morning coffee. I paused my work and went down for a cup of coffee. “Oh Sophea, am I late for the coffee?” I asked the former office assistant. “No, you are not.” “Oh, great! Could I have one?” “Yes, of course,” she replied with warm smiling. “A bit heavy please. Thank you, sister.”
I got back and went on my work, waiting for my coffee. “Oh, coffee! Orkun Thom Thom” said Clare. Trying to pronounce in Khmer, the TA picked one cup for herself. “Thanks, thanks,” I said to Sophea, picking another one for myself. Having sipped some drops, I felt good now.
[Phone ring] Clare picked up and spoke. Seconds later she called me, “Boran, your call.” “Oh, thanks.” “Hallo?” “Hallo Boran, do you have a date with somebody?” asked Sophea. “Date? Erm… No, I don’t. Oh perhaps he comes to meet Mony.” “No, he said he is coming to meet you. He comes from OMF, Siem Reap.” At this time I was more familiar. I knew that must be something about Where There Is No Doctor. “Ok, I am going down to meet him. Thanks.”
“Hi, are you Mr. Bora?” Asked the postman. He pronounced ‘Bora’, but I knew that meant to be me because many people called me so. “Oh, yes I am,” I answered him. “I was asked to bring you this letter. It is from OMF Siem Reap,” he said handing me the letter, “Please open it and write on my paper to notify that you have received it.” I read the envelop, and it read David Narita, the sender. I tried to look through first before opening, and I could see something like a postcard inside. Then, I unstuck the sticker and saw what was inside. I saw a postcard with a green paper. I did not check how much the cash was yet. I took out the letter first and it read:
“Dear Bora
Thank you for all your hard work on the WTIND project. You’re doing an excellent job!
Please accept this small token of my appreciation. Have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
David Narita MD.”
“This must not be written by David himself. He had to have somebody working at OMF Siem Reap written for him because David would not spell my name ‘Bora’. Also, he is most probably in the U.S. these days,” I thought while reading. When I finished, I started to see how much I have got. “Oh, there are two zeros,” I felt the cash. Then I felt to see how many sheet, “Um, one sheet.”
I went up to the office. “Hey Clare, have you got any gift for the Christmas yet?” “Yes, I got some.” “Hey, look at this! I got a gift. I got a big pride….!”
You may think that only in this generation people can use many styles of playing with words. That is to say, we talk indirectly; we beat around the bush. Trying to imply something to the people, we may find it very hard. We use it almost everywhere in our daily life. At work, people hardly ever say something directly to let you know your inefficiency. Then, what about at an eating/drinking opportunity? Yes, simple we just call it teasing. It is very enjoyable teasing at each other in this kind of event. Do you have any idea about if a previous generation knows this style of expressing something?
Well, there is a story (from where? You will know in a moment). Khmer New Year is the most important event for most Cambodian, particularly teens. It is great if you know how to dance. You go dancing from a village to another. You will see something differently from various villages. What is something am I referring to? Yes, I’ve just stressed on teens, so something is most probably the girls.
A guy turned up at the dancing place as usual. During Roam Vong, he looked for some pretty girls. Then, he noticed one. Rising up hands, shifting feet back and forth, and he was moving toward the girl. Finally he reached her and said, “Hey, darling!” The girl stared at him, turned back to her previous state of the rhythm, and giggled. Then, the time for the hunting started. The animal seemed to have been trapped. She came to him and asked, “Would you mind giving me a lift? My house is very far. It is late for me. I will pay you for the driving.” Smiling hopefully, the guy answered, “Oh, no! It is my pleasure to do it. I need no money from you.” “No, you must take it. My husband has quite a lot of money; he has been a soldier for years.” “Oops, my eyes made a big mistake! She has already married.” he muttered. “Please…” “Oh I am sorry; I just realized that my sister is waiting for me. Bye!” The rabbit flashed back to the jungle.
Written on Tuesday, October 23, 2007.
This morning I was awoken by a very new KHMER song written by Midada. It attracted me so much that I cannot go on sleeping. I got up and went close to the radio. I was inspired by the song to have a CD of it.
I went to the a CD shop and asked about the very new song, but the song I was looking for hadn’t been released on CD yet. I chose the last CD instead, which its album is ‘មនុស្សស្រែដូចយើង Monus Sre Dauch Yeung,’ written by Reaksa.
Although the CD was not my intension to buy, I was very much concerned when I listened to it. It combines inherited songs and the new songs. The inherited are ‘ស្ទឹងសម្ងាត់ Steung Samngat’ and ‘ឆ្នាំមុន Chhnam Mun’ which was copied by Thai singer in that period. The new songs are “មនុស្សស្រែដូចយើង Monus Sre Dauch Yeung,” “អូសឬស្សីបញ្រ្ចាស់ចុង Aus Russey Banhchras Chong,” “ម្នាក់ស្រឡាញ់ម្នាក់អាណិត Mneak Srolanh Mneak Anet,” “សន្យាស្រីប្រល័យបង Sanya Srey Prolai Bong,” and “ឈឺចាប់មិនសម្លាប់ខ្លួន Chheu Chabb Men Samlabb Kluon.”
The song ‘Monus Sre Dauch Yeung’ is the master song — the album name. Personally, I feel that Hang Meas encourages its singers/writers(melody and lyric) to produce the songs creatively, and will be awarded by putting his song as a master song. For me, I absolutely agree to this idea. Not only is the song purely produced by Khmer, but the lyric is also great. Even though the master song is not as sweet as the ‘Steung Samngat’ and ‘Chhnam Mun’ in the way of melody writing, this is a very good start of the production. The production intends to glorify the Khmer Songs to somewhat level comparing to the golden inherited songs.
I am always a supporter of any Khmer singer who can create purely Khmer songs. With many Khmer supporters, I always buy original CD of whom I support even though I don’t buy CD so often because of my limited finance. This is the only way I can do to support the Khmer Singers. With the hope of regaining the popularity of Khmer songs, which was not only popular inside the country but also spread to the countries nearby, I wish all the best to any Khmer singers and I will always be their supporter. Another way to reach the goal, I hope the productions in Cambodia hire and/or train more and more dedicated Khmer singers to work for their productions. Day by day, our songs will regain popularity like the previous period, but as long as we all support them. [Journal written on Saturday, May 19, 2007]
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