Cambodia - Part 17

1st September 2007

Minefields or Mindfields?

So the past few weeks have been really busy – both with work and social life. I have had hardly any time to myself.

A few weeks ago Lainie and I went to visit some friends in Battambang for the weekend. It is a long way there, for me, because you have to go all the way around the lake. It is at least 7 hours. Last time I was there, I hardly saw anything, so this time we decided to go and see some stuff. We went out to a dam and irrigation system that was built by the Khmer Rouge. The system still works today and is the main reason that the Battambang Province is famous, well famous in Cambodia, for all its quality produce – particularly their oranges and rice (outside of Cambodia Battambang Province is more famous for being the Province where Angelina Jolie’s adopted child is from and their ‘millennium village’ project). Around Battambang, they harvest rice yields twice a year, rather than just once. However, the cost for building the dam was thousands of lives. One of the moto drivers, who took us on the long bumpy trek out to the dam, actually helped to construct it and told us that many people were buried in the foundations. Now, ironically, the dam is a bit of a tourist attraction, particularly for Cambodians. You can sit in a thatched shanty and eat fish caught fresh from the water. After we munched down some fish we hired some big black inner tubes went for a swim with some local kids. It was quite fun and the water was so cool and clean.

That night a few of us head out to ‘sky’ the local night club. There were only a few westerners there, so we attracted a bit of attention. A few guys tried their English out on me, even when I was at the urinal. At one point I had three guys, one massaging my back, talking to me while I was trying to go. It was the kind of place you can only buy drinks by the bottle (i.e. a bottle of vodka, scotch), so inevitably we were in for a big one. I don’t remember finishing the bottle of vodka, but I must have. It was a funny place. The air conditioning was pumping just as loud as the music and coloured lights flashed away. Down on the dance floor I impressed the locals with my repertoire of disco dance struts and found myself with a little friend holding onto the front of my shirt, copying my moves, for a good hour or so.

The next day I had to get up at 6am to catch the boat to Siem Reap. Thankfully, Lainie had set the alarm for me and I stumbled out of bed, probably still drunk, in time to catch the boat. The boat ride between Battambang and Siem Reap is a long but pretty one as it winds down the river through farm lands, mangroves, bird sanctuaries, small villages and across the Tonle Sap (the biggest lake in South East Asia). Unfortunately, I was in no state to enjoy it much. I was too busy nursing my hang over and trying not being sick over the side. The ‘fast boat’ took over 7 hours to make the journey (at worst it could be 11 hours) – the journey around the lake on a bumpy dirt road to Siem Reap takes about 4 hours. So, if you ask me there was nothing fast about the ‘fast boat’. For the first hour of the ride I kept wondering when we get to the ‘fast boat’, thinking that the boat we were on was only a taxi. The boat was packed with tourists and I must have looked a sight as I stumbled on last and collapsed into the seat at the front next to the driver. All I wanted to do was curl up on top of everyone’s bags and go back to sleep, but everyone was facing towards me and would have seen me - so that option was out. One old German tourist kept checking his GPS system the whole way. Nerd. After I got to Siem Reap it was still another 2 and a half hours to Kampong Thom. I was happy to get home by that stage – over 12 hours door to door with a throbbing hang over. I am not doing that again.

While we were in Battambang we also got a hair cut from Ana, one of our friends, who is an ex-hair dresser. I am now sporting a delightful little mullet. However, while she was cutting our hair she discovered some nit eggs in both Lainie and my hair. We have no idea where they came from. Most likely some of the children we have been in contact with. I didn’t have time to go to the chemist in Battambang and it turned out getting nit hair wash is no easy task in Kampong Thom. I had to ask around at the Chemists and then, when that failed, had to ask the guys from work. Naturally, they all thought it was hilarious. Turns out you can’t get nit hair wash in Kampong Thom. So then I had to ask my friend Tim, who was coming up to Kampong Thom for meeting, to bring some from Phnom Penh. Tim tells me when he asked for the hair wash at the chemist the girl at the counter slowly backed away and indicated he should go the other end of the store. ‘It’s not for me, it’s for my friend’ he pleaded, but still she stood back, with a look of disgust on her face, and pointed…

So the following weekend a group of our friends came up to visit from Phnom Penh. Shin and I had been thinking about hiring a boat and doing a day trip on the Stung Sen, the river which passes through Kampong Thom. The river starts off in the north of Cambodia, near Prah Vihear near the Thai border and winds its way down to the Tonle Sap. For some weeks the river has been high and fast moving, threatening to burst its banks near our house. In the north of the Province, in the areas around Sandan, they have seen the worst flooding in 20 years; some 30,000 people have been cut off from food and fresh water. Many of the new bridges and roads, built during the dry season, were swept away by the force of the water. At home, the Prime Minister would have flown out and declared it a natural disaster. There would have been a big relief effort; the army would have probably gone in to get people out. But this is Cambodia, the government did nothing. There was no relief effort. There is no insurance or medical assistance. There weren’t even any reports in the newspaper. People just dealt with it. It is not like they weren’t expecting the rain and flooding. It happens every year. Although, not always so bad. That’s why they build there houses on stilts. People will probably die from starvation and disease. But no one is really keeping figures. I only know about it because my colleagues and friends who work in the area and couldn’t get out to see their clients.

So anyhow, we decided to do a boat trip. After some fierce bargaining, which we lost, we hired a covered putt-putt boat from one of the locals. A couple of our friends from, work joined us too – including one of my colleagues, Arun, who is 24 but had never been on a boat or to Tonle Sap (mostly because she can’t swim and is scared of the water - we reassured, telling her that nearly all our friends are good swimmers, because we all learn to swim young). We packed on the BBQ, a couple of eskies brimming with beers, sun cream and a pack of cards and set off. It was beautiful sunny day and was really nice on the river. The boat was big enough for us to sprawl out on plastic mats. So we all just kicked back in took in the scenery – waving to all the little kids that waved to us from the shore.

Outside of town the river had burst its banks and we went had to negotiate the channels of a rice paddy before pushing on along the river to Tonle Sap. The further we got from town, the more and more run down the houses got. After a while all that lined the shores were small clusters of shabby little shanties where only the very poor live and survive solely from their fish catches in the river. The rights to fishing in the river were sold to companies by the government, so even this simply activity is fraught with danger, as the people ‘illegally’ catch enough fish to live on.

After about four hours we reached the floating village which sits at the mouth of the Stung Sen. There we got out and had lunch at the boat owner’s house/shop. Part of lunch was prohop, a fermented mushy brown fish dish which could quite possibly be the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten (it easily tasted worse than the ball-like membrane things I ate out of a snake the other day). After lunch we went for a swim in the muddy dull brown waters of the lake (and probably caught several yet to be identified parasites). But it was still nice to go swimming - the water was fresh and tasted like soil.

The trip back to Kampong Thom was a slow one as the boat pushed on against the fast moving current. The water eddying away at the side of the river gave an indication of just how fast the water was moving. But it wasn’t till we stopped and jumped in that we got the full impact. We would jump in at the front, swim as a hard as we could to stay in the one spot and then let ourselves be taken to the rear of the boat. Then repeat. It was quite fun. It took a good 7 hours to get back to Kampong Thom, but we were rewarded with a most spectacular sunset over the winding rivers. The last few hours of the boat ride passed with us singing songs by a little exposed electric light as we boat cut through the dark water.

The day after the boat trip our friends all headed back to Phnom Penh and I headed to Siem Reap to meet my friend Louise who was flying in from Australia. Lousie had been to Cambodia before but was interested to see ‘the other side’ of the country. She stayed with us for a few days and ventured out with both my NGO and Shin’s NGO for a couple of field visits to see some orphans, people living with HIV and peer training programs. She seemed quite happy to take it all in, but I think the highlight of her visit was riding on a moto, on a little boat, to cross water channels where the road had once been…

The following weekend I went with Louise back to Siem Reap to see her off and meet Lainie, who was on her way to visit me in Kampong Thom. Before we left Siem Reap Lainie and I went to meet a monk who Lainie had befriended and who is keen to build a new school in his home town of Kratie. Lainie has been helping him put together a funding proposal and in a few weeks we hope to go and check out the site.

On the Sunday I took Lainie out on my moto to visit the 9th century temples near Kampong Thom called Prasart Sambor Prey Kuk. The road there alone is worth the ride as it winds through the local villages and rice fields. The temples are considerably older than Angkor Watt and made from mud brick. Set among the forest, many of them have slowly been eroded by the weather over the years. We spent most of the day wondering around with an entourage of ten children who were keen to practice their English and sell some hand made scarfs.

On the way out we decided to check out a group of temples which were a few kilometres apart from the main group of temples at Prey Kuk. The road out to these temples was a little-used sandy track, perhaps a metre wide, which wound through the thick jungle. At times it hard work not letting the bike slip away in the sand and then we hit the mine field…

Now, it is quite possible I have gone through a few mine fields since I have been here and been completely oblivious. However, this one was clearly marked. There were little red signs all along the track and red tape from the edges of the road going back into the foliage. Needless to say, I stopped at this point, partly because the road forked, but mostly because of the mine signs. We could see a local working in a field a behind us, so I went back and asked her which way we should go to the temples (my Khmer is improving). She told us to go straight ahead. We hesitate and then decided to follow the tracks of another moto which had clearly been past recently. Nervously and slowly we went over the now rough track and rounded a bend just in time to see the owner of the moto flying back the other way. He turned out to be local teacher who wanted to practice his English and was putting together a class on the temples. He asked if he could take us around. Fearing more land mines, we gladly accepted the invitation and followed him through a few creaks and along the eroded dirt path up to the temples.

The temples, although small, were spectacular. The thick canopy gave them this magical green light. The trees and moss had overgrown many of the dark stones of the ruins. And it was quiet – so quiet it was eerie. All we could hear were the sounds of the jungle, our feet crunching on the thick undergrowth and squeals of pain when we were bitten by some massive blood thirsty ants. Tourists hardly ever came here, these temples sat as they had for centuries. I could imagine how the first Europeans who unearthed Angkor Watt must have felt…it was magical.

Aside from visitors, I have been really quite busy at work too - preparing funding proposals and working on a new management database for my NGO. I felt like I was burning the candle at both ends and I was glad this week to get some time to myself and completely chill out. This weekend I plan on doing nothing.

So that it all for now.

I hope everyone is well.

By-e.

Cambodia - Part 16

24th August 2007

I wanna live like common people…

This week a friend of mine, Louise, from my high school days came to stay for a few days. She decided to visit on her way to London where she plans to set herself up for a year or so…It was nice to get a visitor from back home. For someone to make the trek here and see what I have been up to. But at the same time it was quite strange – sitting on the bus with her from Siem Reap to Kampong Thom I started thinking about how she might see this place and I started noticing how shabby and undeveloped everything was - how so few houses had toilets, how few had electricity cables or water pipes leading to them, how many of them were nothing more than a grass huts on stilts sitting in the middle of stagnant ponds. She didn’t say anything of course. It was all in my own mind. I was seeing things I knew and had learnt over time - things that no one new to country would notice or consider. The romance of travelling in a strange and exotic place blurs out the lives of those that live behind those greying palm frond walls. You don’t think about the poverty, the hunger, the violence, the alcohol abuse until it confronts you in the street in the form of a terribly deformed beggar. But after a while, you even come to accept this.

Strange thing was, when we were growing up I use to think of Louise’s family as rich – they had a nice house that stood on the high ground of Bankstown with a clear view all the way to the city. It is stupid now I reflect on it. We both grew up in the same area. The disparity between the wealthy and poor of our area is nothing compared to the disparity of wealth between poor areas and rich or rich countries and poor countries.

So I have been thinking a lot about the rich and the poor - the haves and the have nots - of late. And I have been thinking about my own life and the good fortune that I have had.

I wonder if HECS was not an option if I would have ever gone to university and I wonder how I might have ended up if I had not. In many ways the university experience was good to me. It opened my mind and sated a desperate need in me to understand the world and my place in it. I relished in the studies of politics, history, philosophy and sociology. All the subjects that are bad for job prospects, but which are like fuel to the fire of a curious mind. I gradually grew and developed my own world view, started determining my own future and building the confidence to follow it. I think that ability. The ability to choice and determine your own future is such a powerful gift. A gift that, I hope, I can somehow share with others. With people who really need it.

I suspect if I hadn’t gone to university, if I hadn’t had those experiences I would have had a very different life. I would probably have ended up working in a manual job that I despised. Instead of turning my mind to learning and understanding, instead of opening my mind, I would probably have become angry and frustrated with the world - like so many other people who have intelligence but have no opportunity or no way of exploring their potential or determining their own lives. But worse still, I would probably have closed my mind. Who knows I may have turned to drugs or alcohol or even crime to try and feel that void, try to divert myself from myself. So many people I use to know held onto that anger and are still angry and did many of those things. They let it stifle their personal development and ended up life ruts. Sometimes I think - they chose that life, that it is their problem. But sometimes I also think that the world can be unfair and cruel. It can kick you hard when you are down, and that, for many people leads them to making poor choices.

Every person has the ability to be good or bad. Every person has the capacity to take a life and to give a life and to save a life (metaphorically and literally). We make small choices everyday to determine which side of the line we fall. Where we stand is determined by these actions. We can talk for hours about doing something or changing something, but that counts for nothing unless you act upon this. And these actions are what leads us through life and are the basis for how we deal with the challenges that life presents. Do we let it swallow us in a dark hour or do we fight on and make the most of the good when it comes to us? Do we let our insecurities let us become brittle and cruel, or do we learn from our mistakes, take it on the chin, and treat people with kindness and respect? Do we look for the good in people or the bad? Do we see the glass as half full or half empty? Do we hate or love?

For many Khmers it would be easy to hate. It would be real easy. But so many of them are positive and friendly - It is truly inspiring. In many ways, as many poor and oppressed people have done throughout history, they have accepted their lot. This is their life and they will make the most of it. They will laugh, smile, create and dream despite the hardship. Poverty, short life expectancy and corruption are merely a fact of life for them. Those that work to change this don’t expect massive things in a hurry, they realise that social change is a slow generational passage. They look to the future with hope.

For us this is unjust; this is unfair. But this is our perspective - we are bringing our ideals and expectations to the party. We know that there is a difference and we want to correct it. But to them this is just life. It is the life they know. It would seem then that justice is a luxury of the affluent.

In a strange way it reminds me a little of the left wing political movements that I was a involved with over the years. Many times I have been disillusioned by the many ‘socialists’ I have met who came from wealthy backgrounds, who would get on their high horse and berate about the rights of the workers and the poor. I would often think that it is very easy to fight the fight if daddy would come and bail you out after. Real poor people are too busy getting by. They have no security net. But that is the cynic in me - at least they were trying to do something good, to correct what they saw as wrong in the world.

I think that a lot of poor people have this nervous fear and insecurity in relation to money (duh!). An insecurity that sometimes inspires people to achieve great successes, but which often results in them turning on each other and seeking blame somewhere else. Too often it leads to anger and violence. I think this is as true at home as it is here. However, here there is not the same emphasis placed on material wealth. But I can see that slowly changing as the country gets richer and richer. But who could blame them? They see all these rich people with all these nice things flying into the country and visit a set of temples which represent a time when their peoples history where they were one of the richest and most powerful empires in the world while they scramble to make enough money in order to feed their families.

But the tables of turned. The grinding cycle of history pushed on and the empire crumbled. As all empires based on power and money eventually do. Power and money are not sustainable commodities. They inspire greed and envy. Two qualities nearly every religion in the world admonishes. Two qualities that destroy empires and people. They are often the ugly side of human nature. They are a bad choice for anyone to make – they stifle creativity, love and openness. But they are inherently human and we struggle with them every day.

They are also the reason why, I think, that communism movements failed – they tried to deny and ignore these qualities in people and ended up giving birth to, often repressive, dictatorships instead…it always struck me as strange how a political movement that sought to flatten power could so easily give itself to being abused by dictators, effectively recreating the oppressive hierarchy that they tried to dismantle Mussolini, for example, was a leader in the communist party before he become a fascist dictator.

Perhaps there are only two ways (or perhaps more correctly, two extremes on a spectrum) that we can interact as people – we can either all get together or come to consensus (i.e. participatory democracy) or we can give up decision making to another person (i.e. a hierarchy). Both systems have their merits in different circumstances. One, however, is inherently fairer. It allows for people to explore their potential, to live with dignity, to have a role in determining their own future and affecting the world around them. If they choose not be involved that is their choice. But the choice, I think, must be offered. But then again, I clearly have a vested interested in this stuff.

So the table have turned for me too. I am now I am one of the affluent person who believes in justice and is upset by the disparity between rich and poor. Perhaps, I am a chardonnay socialist. Here - I am rich. I am educated. I can rant about what I think. I can go home at the end of this. I get sick, they fly me to Bangkok. It is not really my fight. I feel an odd detachment sometimes. It is strange feeling. Don’t get me wrong – it gets me angry and it I am passionate about making a change. But I always have this at the back of my mind. In the long run change must come from the people themselves. I am just here to give them some ideas. And hopefully soon, there will be an opening, a point of access, like there was for me and their lives will change for the better, as they become more empowered and take control of their destiny.

sorry - I started ranting again. Will post something more travel like soon...

By-e.

Cambodia - Part 15

Wednesday 10th August 2007

Meanderings and other crap

Last week we had some people visit us from the Asian Health Institute. They are a Japanese based organisation who deals with, surprisingly, health issues across Asia. They primarily came to see the work that MODE was undertaking with Village Health Volunteer, People Living with HIV/AIDS and the Orphans and Vulnerable Children Programs.

Last Friday we took them out to San Dan, which is a bumpy 2 hours ride in the back tray of a 4WD north of Kampong Thom. It is fairly remote and the town only recently acquired a bridge so that it can accessed by road. It use to take a whole day in a slow putt-putt boat to get to San Dan from Kampong Thom. This week the river has risen, so the bridge is out of service (lucky we went when we did). Apparently, we can expect the river in Kampong Thom to do the same in the next few days – rumour has it that we are in some big floods this year, particularly for communities around Tonle Sap (the massive lake in the middle of Cambodia). The locals are worried that the floods will ruin the rice harvest…

But I digress.

On the way out to San Dan we went stopped at a place where the Japanese UN worker, Atsu Nagada, was killed by the Khmer Rouge during the first national elections in 1992. My counterpart, Nary, had worked for him and knew him quite well. She told me that when she first saw Shin she was quite taken back because he looks a lot like him. I got a cold shiver down my spine when we stopped at the place he was murdered. It is just a dirt road in the middle of a leafy little village, like so many others. Since his death they renamed the village ‘Atsu’ in his memory and there is a little monument. His son lives there now and carries on humanitarian aid work.

In San Dan, we went to a meeting of the village representatives, who were discussing the issues affecting the community, and visited one of the Village Health Volunteers post-natal classes. The class in a little wooden house and was packed with young women and children, and they showed them rather graphic cartoons of women giving birth and stuff on big laminated posters.

After that, we headed another hour out of San Dan to a forest community, in well, a forest. The village consisted of only about a dozen wooden huts and they met us in a school that the community had built. It was a really poor and bizarre. They told us that in order to build the school house that the whole village had to cut back on food, but they were clearly very proud of their achievements.

The single room school house had bare dirt floors and three rows of benches facing the front. It was dimly lit by the sun shining through the gaps in the wooden panels and the door. As usual, I had to sit up front, and the whole village, of about forty people, just stared at me. I think they thought I was a ghost. Outside the curious kids stuck there heads in the doorway to stare. Unnerved as I was by the staring, it struck me that something else was rather odd about this village. First, I realised that there were three distinct features that were repeated in every face (inbreeding me thinks) and, secondly, that there was no one in the room between the age of about 20 and 40.

Many of the people from poor rural areas migrate to the cities or the Thai border in search of better jobs and prospects. Some do well, but some end up being exploited as labourers in Thailand, many of the young girls get caught up in the sex trade…As we were leaving one of the few young women in the village came up and started screaming stuff (I assume it was directed mostly at me because it started after my boss asked if anyone had any questions for me). Everyone was laughing in an unsteady kind of way. And I backed away to the car. My counterpart said she couldn’t explain what she was saying, but not to worry cause she was just a bit crazy.

On a positive note, the forest was beautiful and it was fun going through it in a 4WD. We went through some deep rivers and across a number of muddy tracks. The forest was so thick with green trees and tendrils it was hard to see more than a few metres into it. There where a number of big clearing where timber thieves had been at work or where farmers had cleared land. I also got covered in dirt and mud. My white shirt was brown/orange by the time we got back.

On Saturday morning I went down to the ‘Happy Happy Children’ program at the local Watt. Katerina and Thomas, an Austrian couple working in Kampong Thom, have set a program to sponsor some of the children’s ongoing schooling and basic health, so they came along too. This time the kids learnt about the importance of exercise and keeping hydrated before they played for a bit and were given some food. It is always fun to play with the kids.

So it rained most of the weekend and I spent most of it curled up on my bed reading. Our fishing trip got cancelled because the guy’s boat had broken down and there was not other way of getting to the farm. So on the Saturday night Shin and I went to a 100 day funeral for the father of the friend of my friend Mab. The Buddhists (if they have money) have a funeral on the day of the death, 7 days later, 100 days later and 3 years later. Apparently this gives the soul to find a new mother who then falls pregnant shortly after. The funeral was pretty much like Christian ones, except there was no body. There are prays and then the men get drunk.

On Monday I headed out to Stoang, which is about half way between Kampong Thom and Siem Reap along the highway. It had been raining all weekend and on Monday it drizzled all day so the road and the piles of cow dung that littered the highway were moist. Some of the piles were massive – like someone had been making poo castles along the road. Anyhow, I discovered a useful, but disgusting fact about moist cow dung – if you hit it on your moto it will end up on your feet. Gross. Why didn’t I wear my boots? I am such a city boy.

Forgive me if the poo comments are a little crass. It is different over here – people are pretty open about such things. Most villagers don’t have a toilet. When I get together with the other volunteers we often talk stools. We have all been sick and had to manage embarrassing situations. But I must say I have become a major convert to the ‘bum hose’ (only western places have toilet paper). It is great for cleaning yourself and cleaning up afore said embarrassing situations.

On the topic of toilets – no one ever tells you how to use a squat toilet and it is not an easy subject to broach with a stranger. So here is a few pointers – first they are usually designed for you to face the back wall (not the door). Secondly, you have to commit fully to the squat – no half or three-quarter squats – if you don’t squat all the way otherwise you risk missing the toilet or, worse still, getting it on your clothes. Thirdly, after you finish your business you have to stay in afore mentioned squat position for a few well directed squirts from the bum hose – most of the water will drain quickly and, again, you won’t get it on your clothes. Lets call this – making gravy the easy way.

Again, I digress…

Out at Stoang I went to visited a centre where local women were making ‘kraamers’ – a traditional checked tea towel/scarf that Khmer people wear (especially it the villages). They are quite useful because they are quite light and can be used as a hat, sweat band, towel, scarf, mask, pants or even strapless dress. Much to my distress, Shin has been adopting the local custom of using one as a skirt on hot days around the house. I have made it clear, unlike the locals, he better be wearing underwear under it. I don’t want any little surprise peeks.

After that we went out to watch some villagers receive training on decentralisation and local governance. My Khmer must be improving because I understood quite a bit of what was happening. Then we headed out to a village where they weaved baskets. On the way there I had a moment when I thought I saw an elephant in the wild. I almost squealed in excitement. But when I got closer I realised it was just two fat grey buffalo and an ant hill. I was rather disappointed. The village where they made the baskets was quite far off the main road, and they were really poor. Even the head of the village wore rags, but they still insisted that I take a basket as a gift. I had to take it as to not offended them, but I felt guilty.

On the way back from the village we hit some really muddy roads. Usually in places like this there is little path that snakes between pot holes, thick orange mud and puddles, along the dry part of the road, compressed by other moto drivers. When someone comes the other way, you pull over and wait. But this road was so bad in parts that we had to get off and walk. The mud was at least ankle deep and for the second time that day I wished I had wore my boots.

Aside from my tours, my project is also coming together slowly. I had a few meetings this week and have revised my plan. It is going well so far.

I hope all is well back home.

Take care
By-e.

Cambodia - Part 14

Wenesday 1st of August 2007

It is always darkest before the dawn.

I have had some sudden clarity of thought in the last week and I am feeling excited and motivated again. One might even say I was electrified. I was talking to Shin about the situation at work, about how bored and frustrated I had been feeling. He just said ‘Dude, you just have to make your own work.’ And all of a sudden that I realised a few things – That I already knew what I wanted to achieve while I was here; In focusing on achieving this I would alleviate the boredom and frustration I had been feeling; By attempting to achieve it I would bring a fresh focus and purpose for my time in Cambodia; I could leave a positive sustainable impact on the people in Kampong Thom; My goal was achievable – I have the skills and the ability to implement my idea.

Shin’s off the cuff comment had lifted the veil for me – I could see it all clearly. In my frustration and boredom I had lost sight of the purpose and vision I had when I arrived. Again, you worst enemy is yourself.

But first I would have to make a few big decisions in my own life - I would have to quit the job waiting for me back home and extend my stay in Cambodia.

Some of the first things that struck me about the NGO situation in Cambodia were the lack of sustainability in the programs and the lack of coordination amongst local NGOs. It was also an irritant to me that the big donors based outside Cambodia were dictating the terms of projects – what was deemed to be important and what would get funding.

I have decided to try and turn all this on its head with what I am calling a ‘sustainable communities’ project. I am going to try and empower the local communities to take ownership of the development process and drive change from the grass roots up. I am going to do this by providing them with the skills to create and achieve realistic community plans.

I have had this idea floating around in my head for some months. However, while I thought the concept was good and could make a significant impact, there was simply not enough time for me to understand the context, develop the idea, secure funding, develop training plans and ensure the capacity of the organisation was up to the task within six months. I was hoping that my organisation might have taken up the ball on this issue, but they don’t really have a thorough understanding of the subject. It needs someone like me to drive it, until it is off the ground. And so, I have decided to stick around and do just that.

I am really passionate about giving people an opportunity, ensuring access and social justice. So this project is right up my alley. I believe strongly in the role of community, have faith in their ability of people to make positive change for themselves and to hold their representatives accountable. To me, a healthy functioning community can work together to achieve great things. No political system, no matter how corrupt or inefficient, can stop the tide of change from an organised, active and dedicated community (I was always partial to revolutionary ideas). Sometimes they just need a bit of a helping hand to coordinate and organise.

I know I can achieve my goal and a really positive outcome from my assignment.

I don’t know what I was expecting when I got to Cambodia. I remember thinking that I should try and reserve judgement and just go with the flow. But I must have had some expectations, because I was quite taken back when I understood just how far behind they were in many ways. I was particularly concerned about the level of understanding of democratic processes (kinda dumb now – considering I had read about the statistics on the rates of illiteracy and poverty) and this threw me. I had no idea how I was meant to develop the capacity of a community who didn’t really understand voting, let alone concepts like ‘sustainable community planning’.

But over the last few months working with MODE, talking to people and going out into the field I have come to understand the Khmer culture much better and also the issues that they face. I think I can structure a program that is effective and builds on existing social networks.

I don’t want to come to Cambodia for six months, mess about a little bit, and then head home. This would be unfulfilling. I have the opportunity to make a change for the better in the world and I intend to pursue it. My dad always told me ‘never to leave a job half done’ and I am not going to (if I can help it).

So I have decided to stay on Cambodia for at least the next nine months (probably a year). This means I have to quit my job back home. My safety net is gone. For the first time since I was thirteen I am technically unemployed. It feels liberating. I have the whole world before me.

This has also got me thinking about my future. It is possible to do good while being paid well. There is stacks of development work out there - so many opportunities to do good things, live in different countries, be challenged by new experience and also get paid. I am starting to think this might be a new career possibility for me – well for the next few years…

But enough ranting about saving the world.

This week has been quite busy. I have been furiously putting together a project proposal to sell my idea to my boss and other local NGOs who I want to get on board with my project.

Last night was a strange night in Kampong Thom. Hillsong came to town. There was a big Christian concert at the ‘stadium’ (read soccer field with a fence). Shin and I went down to check it out. On our approach we saw a shaft of white light beaming down from the clouds which made it look like god himself was endorsing the performance, shining on the performers. But I knew better – smoke and mirrors, smoke and mirrors. As we got close it was clear that everyone in Kampong Thom had turned up for the event. It was like Pearl Jam was in town (am I showing my age with comments like that?). People were all over the road. The traffic had come to a stand still (the stadium is on the main road) and a clearly frustrated Police man on rammed the crowd back with his lurching motorbike. Thankfully he missed me, but he took down a couple of other people nearby us. Along the road side there were little festival games lining the outside of the stadium wall; young guys trying to win stuffed bears and bed linen for their girlfriends by throwing darts at balloons. Shin and I had a go and won three packets of biscuits. What a booty! But we felt guilty and gave them to some hungry looking kids. I managed to sneak a peek into the stadium (I could see clearly over the crowd) and saw a dark sea of people before a lit up stage. Just at that moment they stopped the Khmer music, which had been beating constantly since we arrived, and some guy with an acoustic guitar started singing about god in English. The sea turned and fled. I was pushed back by all the Khmers existing the stadium. We decided to make a break too. Grabbed the moto and carefully negotiated our way out of the crowd, both of us amused by the sudden turn in the crowd and idle trucks. You can take a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.

The whole Christian evangelic movement is big here. It is hard to go anywhere without bumping into some middle class white person trying to sell their god. I don’t particularly have a problem with religion; I was a practicing Catholic until my mid-twenties and I would still consider myself Catholic. I believe strongly in spirituality and my spirituality is closely tied to Christian concepts. Love of god and love of neighbour – love yourself and love each other. But I think it is a real personal journey and I hate it when anyone tries to force any opinion or view on another person. Since I have been here I have found the acts of many ‘Christian’ organisations quite challenging. I find it deplorable that some organisations target extremely poor, marginalised and desperate people and make them pray before they will provide them with help. Another group offers free English lessons, but the lessons are all centred on their gospel. Both, in my mind are most uncharitable and unchristian.

It makes me wonder what they hope to achieve. Are they just trying to up their numbers? A starving person is going to say what they have to so they can be fed.

About a month ago I had the further displeasure of hearing an American guy do a reading at church service. Lainie and I had gone to a mass held by her organisation in Poipet (they are a Christian organisation). This guy, an accountant who had been working in Thailand, got up in front of a congregation of almost all Khmer people and told them not to be ‘distracted by education’. It made me feel sick. I wanted to head butt him. Here was a middle class guy with a university education who wandered into Cambodia for a few days telling a group of people, most of whom probably didn’t finish primary school, probably didn't eat that day and who are either desperately poor or bordering on it, that education was bad for them. Grr.

That is not to say all Christians are bad. Some groups genuinely want to help other people and do really positive things for the poor and the needy – establishing homeless shelters, food security etc...

So right, I have been ranting a little. Apologies. I am a passionate little soul.

This weekend, I might be going to stay out on a farm with a couple of guys from work and tomorrow I am heading out to a remote village for a field visit. Am looking forward to both, but I will make sure I will take the mosquito repellent. Apparently there is a bit of malaria floating around…just what I need after dengue. I am also avoiding chicken at the moment – I heard that a large group of chickens died unexpectedly near town and the farmer just sold them. Of course I found this out the day I had eaten chicken for lunch. If I get any ‘flu-like’ symptoms I am scoffing the Tamiflu. To bird flu. Erin says no.

On ward and upward - to the stars...

By-e.

Cambodia - Part 13

Tuesday 17th July 2007

Stir fried

So my last entry was a bit of a diatribe. Apologies – I may have misrepresented myself a little. I was just bored more than anything. I am ok. I am not going crazy. But I do miss home a little…

In the last few weeks the wet season has well and truly set in. It rains heavily most days and everything gets wet. The dirt roads to many of the villages become muddy bogs and are impassable. It is also school holidays at the moment. It is timed to coincide with the wet season. My Khmer teacher has been busy overseeing examinations and getting papers graded for the end of school year exams. As a result my Khmer has taken a bit of a back burner, but that is cool.

Lots of kids are out playing and wondering around. I have seen a few looking very Huckleberry Finn with their straw hats, bicycles and fishing rods down by the river. The kids aren’t put off by the rain; they just go out and play in it. It is still hot and muggy even when it rains. Apparently, when it floods you can catch fish swimming along the roads. Maybe I should have bought a boat instead of a moto…

Two weekends ago was a quite weekend for me. Shin went to Phnom Penh, but I had some work to do, so I stayed in Kampong Thom with the house to myself. On Saturday morning I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. I decided I needed to do something and jumped on my moto in the direction of Phnom Santuk; a little ‘mountain’ about half an hours ride from Kampong Thom. The Khmers call this a mountain, but I am not so sure it really qualifies. It isn’t that tall. It is 810 uneven steps to be precise. Although, it does stand out in contrast to the flat plains around it – you can see it from miles away. On my way there I was thinking it would be so nice to do some exercise climbing the mountain and then relax peacefully with my thoughts, soaking up the view. But this is Cambodia, I should have realised - you are never alone. As soon as I got to the base of the mountain I was flooded with wannabe guides. One jumped on the back of my moto and pointed out the road that leads up the mountain. So off we went.

Climbing the mountain on a moto was actually quite scary. With two of us on the bike I had to keep slipping it into first to get up the step bits. I really gave the bike a thrashing. But it was nowhere near as scary as coming down the mountain. I let the guide drive down and just hung on for my life. Most of the way we didn’t even have to turn the bike on, we just rolled with the brakes on. Who needs roller coasters?

Up on top of the mountain was a pagoda, a series of Buddha’s carved into the rocks, a footprint from Buddha himself and a magnificent view – long flat stretches of green rice paddies dotted with wooden houses and clumps coconut trees as far as the eye could see.

After we got back down, I decided I still needed to do some exercise and that I should climb the stairs anyhow. I really am out of shape. I may have lost weight here, but I have also lost any semblance of fitness I had as well. I probably wouldn’t have felt so bad if my guide hadn’t looked so fresh and taken the liberty of fanning me down as we climbed…I was streaming with sweat by the time I reached the top and felt like I was going to have a heart attack. How far away is the nearest hospital?

On the way back from Santuk I decided to pull in and have a look at the stone cavers and a drum maker who maker who sell their goods along the main road. I found a little stone elephant which I bought for the house, but its ear fell off on the ride home.

Aside from that, that weekend was fairly dull and I was bored out of my mind by Sunday evening. Sometimes, it gets tedious speaking in broken English/Khmer and having to travel so far to do anything. The other day I was day dreaming about ordering in a pizza and chilling out on the couch watching a DVD. For some reason our TV channels have changed and we no longer get some of the English speaking channels (including my favourite – the Australia network). So my TV options are even more limited than before. Our only source of English speaking news is CNN which bites – talk about sensationalistic…and now we get the fashion channel (seriously – what is the point?).

Last weekend I went to Phnom Penh for a welcome dinner for the new batch of volunteers arriving from Australia on Friday night. There are 15 new volunteers and only one is male. We were joking that it would be really funny if he was gay. He wasn’t and the poor guy was clearly hanging for some male company after being stuck with the girls all week. Nearly everyone from my intake was there and it was nice catching up with them all.

So we took the new kids out on the town. I was hanging to dance off my stir craziness and we hit a few pubs around the town. The last one we went to was little place with a mix of Khmer and foreigners overlooking the river. We carved up on the dance floor into the wee hours, partly thanks to ‘the Mexican’ (A Khmer guy wearing a sombrero and poncho) who kept us well lubricated with tequila shots. One can’t help but wonder about ‘the Mexican’ – how serious does he take being ‘the Mexican’? Does he wear those clothes all the time? Does he have ‘la cucaracha’ as the horn on his moto? Do his kids have to call him ‘papa’? Does he have little cactuses out front of his house? So many questions…

The next day Lainie and I were feeling shady, but pulled it together enough to meet our friends Tim and Ags at the Hotel Continental for yum cha. The food was awesome. We ate so much I couldn’t move after. I think I am going to have to go to China and just eat for a few days. Kicks ass on Khmer cuisine.

After lunch Lainie and I did some shopping before heading down to the river front and took a sunset cruise along the Mekong/Tonle Sap rivers (Phnom Penh is built around where these two major rivers meet). We got a little boat to ourselves and just chilled with a couple of beers. It was so nice just to relax and take in the city from the water. There is a haze that descends over the city which gives it a romantic feel (alas it is probably just pollution and dust).

That night we had a quiet night. Just a little dinner and a few drinks. We were staying at a little guesthouse near the river front called the ‘Bogie and Becall’. It was a nice, clean and friendly little place. But Lainie noted that there were no other female guests staying there. When I noticed an ad for the place highlighting that they had ‘beautiful girls’ we started to get a little suspicious. Our suspicions were confirmed on Saturday night when we walked into the bar down stairs and it was full of older foreign men and young Khmer girls. You just can’t pick them sometimes. It turns out we were staying in an area where that sort of thing went on. I am not saying it was a brothel, but it was definitely not just a guesthouse either. Oh well, they did a good fry up breakfast…

So Pyjamas. People here love them here. Ladies wear them everywhere and kids wear the shorts around. I guess they are comfortable and light. They are often bright red, orange or yellow with little cartoon pictures dotted all over them. It is quite cute and funny at the same time. It’s like they are always ready for a nap. Sometimes when I am talking to store holders in the market I just want to say ‘Hey. Nice PJs’.

Work has been a bit like the weather lately. Sometimes there is stacks to do, sometimes there is nothing. I have decided to set myself a little project to improve the management of the organisation and develop a strategic plan. That should keep me occupied in the low times.

On a side note – my boss sold his fake Lexus. He didn’t tell me why.

Sorry I haven’t posted any pictures of late, but I haven’t taken any. I decided to make a claim for my camera and my glasses. But making an insurance claim in the middle of Cambodia isn’t quite straight forward. Anyways, I hope to get another one soon.

I hope everyone is well. I miss you all.
by-e.

Cambodia - Part 12

Wednesday 18th July 2007

Midnight ramblings

It late on a Tuesday night. Or to be more precise Wednesday morning. I can’t sleep. Again. Despite the fact that I am exhausted and there is nothing more I want in the world right now. It has been happening quite regularly of late. My mind just starts racing with thoughts and I can’t relax. It starts off like and drip and then it’s like a flood of thoughts. Crazy and often disjointed thoughts - Thoughts about my friends and family, about my relationships, about people I haven’t seen in years. Thoughts about things I have done in the past, about the people I have met here and the things I have seen, about things that I have said and the things I am going to say, thoughts about my future, my childhood and my dreams. Thoughts and creations; weird day dreams, delusions and thoughts analysing my thoughts. Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, so many thoughts. Why am I thinking so much? Can’t I stop thinking?

I know I am not the only one – Shin and Lainie have both complained about this too. Occasionally this sort of thing happens at home, but no where near as frequent as it has been happening here. I think it is a side effect of both being isolated and being in a place where I have limited interactions with people and where there is no escape from myself.

I have come to the realisation recently that the hardest part about this whole Cambodia gig is not living in different culture, eating exotic foods, not having hot water, or occasionally electricity, or learning another language. It is not dealing with endemic corruption or even dealing with severe poverty and all the associated problems with that. It is not trying to establish relationships with people who have a completely different outlook to you. It is dealing with your self; dealing with your own thoughts and preoccupations. Where ever you go - there you are.

Outside your comfort zone, away from all the usual distractions and routines, there is one thing left – you. And that becomes very apparent over time.

It isn’t that far to Phnom Penh, 3 hours on a bus, but sometimes even that feels like a lifetime away. Still, even though it has lots of cool western style restaurants with familiar food, friends who speak English as a first language and the hustle of a city – home it is not.

When I have travelled before I have revelled in my ability to rely on myself. To get by in a foreign place where I don’t speak the language and don’t fully understand the customs. It makes you feel independent and gives you faith in you’re ability. It is a great empowering feeling. Especially when you conquer your fears in doing it. I can do anything.

But this feeling is different. After you stop being consumed by the exotic and quirky aspects of a different country or the excitement of living somewhere totally new and different, something else starts to happen.

I have so much time by myself, with myself, in my own head. During the course of a day I am often find myself sitting in meetings not understanding what is going on, or sitting in a crowded restaurant not understanding a word that is being said around me. Sometimes, when Shin is not around, I go days without a normal conversation in English. And my mind starts to drift.

I am away from the comfort of my routine, of my culture, of my friends and family. I am away from the things I use to distract myself – TV, alcohol, music, eating. I am away from the people I talk to about things when I think I think too much. Away from all those things that I have in my life that stop me from facing those big and difficult questions about myself and away from the mechanisms I have incorporated in my life to deal with difficult problems. So I can’t help but wonder. Who am I? What am I about? What do I really value? What do I really believe? What is life all about? And I dissect and re-evaluate. Perhaps a little too much.

Now I often thought it was a bit self indulgent when people go places to try and ‘find themselves’. But I am coming to realise a bit more what people really mean by statements like that. I have moved outside the framework of my normal life in a way and can now look back in on it. I can see things from a new angle, a new perspective. It is all something rather strange and in many ways unexpected. I didn’t expect it to be this intense.

I have my moments where I feel like I am over Asia and I yearn for the simple things of home – pizza on the couch and a DVD or a few beers down the pub with my mates. For a while I thought it was Cambodia. But now I realise that it is more about me. I value the ease and comfort of being able to get takeaway and chill out on the couch watching movies. I value that for many reasons, but perhaps mostly because it is much easier than facing myself; facing my own demons and emotions. Facing those things I keep hidden from view – out the sight of others and out of sight from myself.

It strikes me that people in western culture put a lot of effort into distracting themselves, of avoiding all these tough questions and thoughts. Some people throw themselves into exercise or work – try to exhaust themselves so they don’t have to face them. Some people try to find meaning in religion, history or politics. Some people overindulge or seek pleasure in alcohol or drugs or TV or food or whatever just to avoid it. Some people try to deal with it or distract themselves through a medium like painting or writing. And some people flee from it all and travel. Or, perhaps more likely, everyone does a combination of all the above for a plethora of reasons. But mostly it comes back to the same thing. We find facing ourselves difficult.

But why is it so hard?

I guess that we are all scared. Scared that there might be no meaning, scared that there might be nothing else, scared that we are alone, scared of not being loved, scared of not being understood or accepted, scared that we can’t let ourselves be understood or accepted, scared that we might have got it all wrong, that life is not how we thought it was. Or perhaps this is just my fears.

Either way, without wanting to sound like some new age philosopher, I think it all comes down to love and respect. I think that everyone desires this. Simple. You give it and you receive it.

This is not a new revelation for me. It has been sitting in my mind for a long time. I have always had a strong faith in people and their ability to help each other. I still dream of a fairer more peaceful world where everyone can just get along. I hope I can contribute to this, even in some small way. I hope what I am doing now is a good thing and I hope that it really has some meaning, some impact. But I doubt it. It is but a drop in the ocean. The problems are so big and some convoluted it will take years and years to change. I must accept that I am only one person, and one person can make a difference…

Peace and Love
Erin

Cambodia - Part 11

Wednesday 12th of July 2007

Hallelujah for hot water!!!

It’s official – I have hot water in my house!!! It only produces a little trickle and the lights dim when you switch the system on, but it is hot and it is glorious (after over 3 months of cold splashes in the bucket). The system is this little box that sits on the wall of the ‘bontoup tuk’ (water room) and basically acts like a really quick urn. The land lord fix it after we paid another 3 months rent in advance. And just in time. It has been getting cold. In the mornings it is dropping down to about 20 and I am really feeling it. Seriously – I find that cold these days. The water must be about 15. Freezing!!!

Despite the fact the wet season has started, it still gets up to the mid 30’s most days. We just have the 3 o’clock storm to cool things down now. And the mud. Mud everywhere. The landscape has completely changed since I first arrived. Gone are the wide dust bowls with limp trees and emaciated cows; replaced with lush green trees, vast sprouting rice paddies, pools of brown muddy water and fat cows…’water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink…’

Speaking of cows I had to shoo one out the gate the other day. It came in and grazed around for a bit while I was having my lunchtime nap. I was hoping she would eat up the lawn so we wouldn’t have to mow it with a whipper snipper again (it’s my turn – Shin did it last time). But then I had to go back to work and had to get her out before I locked the gate. Thankfully she was an agreeable little heifer and followed my lead (unlike some other little heifers I know). Don’t know what I would have done if she was stubborn. But, you know, I still have that BBQ…

I am also loving my motor bike. I thought it would be boring after a while. But no, it is still fun, especially on the dirt tracks or in the mud, although my feet get wet in the puddles. I am half thinking about doing a little trek to Thailand at the end of my assignment, maybe fanging it around Angkor Watt on my way there. Could be way fun.

As for work things are coming along well. I am finding myself busy these days. There is a lot to do in the way of proposals and working out new programs. I found out the other day that my first funding application was successful, so am pretty happy at the moment. That is a 100% success rate. It won’t last, so I am lapping it up at the moment. We are currently working out the logistics of the successful application (it is to assist HIV/AIDS affected people establish micro-businesses and earn enough of an income to support themselves and their families).

At the moment I am working on a new funding proposal to secure funds for an education and awareness campaign. The campaign will improve the understanding of people’s rights in relation to local governance, domestic violence and land rights. It will hopefully compliment and build on some other projects that we have going and have proposed.

On Thursday we will be doing the food security program again. I will be lending my muscle to move the hefty bags of rice. Should be a good work out and we get the satisfaction of feeding the poor. I feel like such a sloth these days – I haven’t exercised in weeks. But hey, I have still lost weight. Thankyou dengue.

Funny thing; my boss bought a Lexus 4WD a few weeks ago. It is white has ‘Lexus’ written down the side in big grey letters. It’s a fake. I know this mostly because my boss told me (I am no car expert). But there also some other give aways – like the Toyota badges…this place is so odd sometimes…

As you probably all know last Saturday was the 7/7/07. This date has particular relevance for the Cambodians. It is the 10 year anniversary since Hun Sen and some of the Cambodian Peoples Party (CPP) held a coup and took government from the ruling Funcinpec Party (who they were in a coalition with at the time), effectively ending the democratic system that the UN tried to implement in 1993 and yet, ironically, bringing some stability to a politically tumultuous situation. A loss of democracy for stability – seems to happen a lot to new democracies.

On the 7/7/97 there was fighting in the streets of Phnom Penh as troops loyal to the CPP fought troops loyal to Funcinpec. Motars were fired, there were skirmishes in the streets and about 70 people were killed. Two days later it was all over - Hun Sen was in power and the leader of Funcinpec was in exile and has been pretty much ever since. In the weeks that followed the coup there were a number of extra-judicial murders and a number of other people were killed. Hun Sen claims that he was protecting Cambodia from a coup from Funcinpec who had made some agreement with the Khmer Rouge. While there is some truth in this (the agreement), one has to wonder why a ruling party would hold a coup. What is left now is pretty much a single ruling party with a leader that intends to hold onto to power as long as possible, endemic corruption and superficial democracy. It is not likely this situation will change anytime soon…

The other day a land rights activist was killed with an AK47 in the west of the country. The murderer was caught a few days later in the south of the country. The Police chief said that they were lucky because the activist yelled out the name of his murderer in his dying moments. The activists wife, who was there, said he didn’t say anything like that. Then representatives from the company who he was fighting against turned up at the autopsy out of ‘curiosity’. Hmm….

Anyhow, I have also done some more travelling. I went to Siem Reap last weekend where I met up with Lainie. We headed out of town and onto Tonle Sap Lake to visit the ‘village on stilts’ (nothing like the ‘poo on sticks’ artwork in Kings Cross) and the flooded forest. It took an hour and half to get there but it was quite cool. It hadn’t rained enough for the village on stilts to flood, so you can still walk down the muddy main road. Underfoot it was littered with little shells and the houses that lined the street, well, they are on stilts. They are mostly traditional wooden houses that sit about 5 metres off ground level and many are decorated with plants from the forest. Quite nice. But the most striking thing was the lack of vehicles. To the point they have volley ball nets pulled tight across the road and you can walk the street with no worries of being hit by a moto. We had lunch on the balcony of one of the locals houses and looked out across the village and then headed of to the forest.

The forest was also nice, but would be better in the middle of the wet season when the boats can weave between the branches of the trees. As it was, the water was fairly low and we went along the side. It was strange to see so many trees clumped so thickly together. Over the years Cambodia has lost much of its forests. Most of it went over the border to Thailand where they built those lovely wooden resorts and souvenirs…

While we were in Siem Reap, by chance, we bumped into our other friends Tim and Ags. One Saturday we caught up with them at the laundry bar in Siem Reap – a funky little bar off the main tourist strip. Because it is low season for tourists, most of the bars are empty and the tuk tuk drivers are particularly keen for business. It also means there is a lot of building happening. The place changes so quickly. But I digress. Over a few shandies, Tim and I devised a dastardly mullet growing competition. Where else are we going to get away with it than in Cambodia?? We have three months to grow a mullet that will impress our friends and families. Despite warnings from the doctor that I might loose it, I still have a full and fertile head of hair post dengue. In fact, I could use a hair cut. Game on.

Ciao.
Erin