Cambodia - Part 20

Friday 16th November 2007

Blah, blah, blog…

It is hard work keeping this blog thing up. It takes much more energy than I had first thought.

The last few weeks have been pretty full. I have been trying to see things and get things done before I return. At work I have been a little frustrated trying to organise training for staff. I keep having to change times because there is something else on and I am worried I might run out of time.

A couple of weeks ago I hired a car took my counterpart, Nary, her daughters and another friend from work, Arun on a weekend visit to Kratie. We went primarily so I could visit a friend of mine and to see the fresh water dolphins that live in the Mekong river near Kratie. Don’t worry I didn’t try to eat them. They are funny little creatures – they have a fat round head and they slip up through the brown muddy waters of the river. According to Khmer folklore a snake ate a princess and they combined to become a dolphin. Still it doesn’t explain how there came to be more than one. Did the snake/princess mate with herself? Another snake? Another Princess? I was feeling a bit hairy after having had quite a few drinks the night before with my friend Larissa, so it was struggle to really enjoy the boat ride out to see the dolphins. But it was still good.

We also went to visit ‘the pagoda of one hundred poles’ which is, well, a pagoda with one hundred poles in and around it. There is another Princess buried at the pagoda. But this one was eaten by a crocodile. I tell you – it just ain’t safe being a princess in Cambodia – everything trying to eat you. But, unlike the folk lore this princess actually was eaten by a crocodile – she was bathing one day and it snapped her up. The Kings guards chased it across three provinces and caught it near Kratie where they cut it open and retrieved the princess. Too late though, she was well dead and I doubt that she looked quite as beautiful as she did in the pictures when she came out of the croc.

On the way back to town from the pagoda we went to visit a pagoda on top of a hill. The landscape around Kratie is very different to that around Kampong Thom. Where Kampong Thom is really flat, around Kratie it is quite hilly. It kind of sits at the start of the mountain range that spread up through eastern Cambodia and into Vietnam. So the view from the top of the mountain was quite beautiful.

On the way back from Kratie we visit a number of other places to break up the journey, including a temple in Kampong Cham and a dam in Kampong Thmor.

Oh, and last weekend I went to see a couple of other temple. I think they are pretty well known – they are called Angkor Watt or something. Actually Angkor Watt is only one temple, there are heaps of other sets of temples around it. Anyhow, it was a (another) long weekend last weekend, so I decided to pull my finger out and go up the road to see Angkor. I got up really early to see the sun rise and in vain hope of avoiding the crowds.

When I got to Angkor there were hundred of people just quietly standing about, facing the temple, watching for the sun rise. It was quite a surreal experience. As I cut through the crowd, in the early dawn light, heading into the temple I had the sense of leaving humanity. Because everyone was outside watching the sun rise, the temple itself was almost empty which was even spookier. At one point I found myself in a dark chamber and turned to see a huge figure in the doorway – it was a statue, but it was enough to send a shiver up my spine. It is amazing that the temples are so well preserved and you can walk all over them still. After Angkor I headed out to have breakfast and watch the sun come up of the Bayon Temple. Bayon was spires with four faces looking in each direction. I watched the shadows grow shorter across the faces as the sun went up. I spent the seven hours roaming about all the temples, and still did not see them all. It is huge, leafy and peaceful (away from the crowds). My favourite temple was Preah Kahn. It is pretty badly ruined in parts, with ancient trees growing up through the brick work (the temple with the tree growing out of it, from the movie ‘Tomb Raider’ is another temple and while more spectacular, it wasn’t my favourite), but the etchings are really well preserved.

After roaming around Angkor I met up with Lainie. We had planned do some other things around Siem Reap, but I got really sick and had to spend most of the weekend in the bathroom expelling fluids violently from every orifice in my body. Truly disgusting. Oh well, if it doesn’t kill you, it makes you stronger. It better.

And so the seasons change and so does the landscape. The rice fields are turning yellow as the rice matures for harvest. Much of the ground water has turned stagnant and is blanketed with algae. The dust from the road clouds the air as motos and cars rush by. Mangoes have started to appear in the tree branches and the climate is cool. The other day I thought it was quite cold on my way to work. When I got to the office I found that it was 28. Clearly, I am getting use to the heat.

Over the month of November people make donations to the monks and pagodas. There are lots of small festivals. I have been invited by my boss to go out to Sandan for the weekend to participate in a festival out there. I am lead to believe there will be partying and dancing. No doubt there will be loud speakers and bad music too. Sandan is pretty much the middle of no where – there is no electricity or running water and I am going to have to sleep under the stars in a hammock. Should be fun.

Take care
Erin

Cambodia - Part 19

Monday 30th October 2007

From dust I have come and to dust I shall return…

A few weeks ago the Cambodians celebrated Pchum Ben, a time of year when most Khmers go back to their home town, to meet their family and pay respect the dead. For three days they go to the local pagoda, make offerings and remember their relatives who have passed on. In one of those strange coincidents that haunt life, my grandmother passed away and I returned to my home town to meet with my family to pay our final respects.

It is always strange to go home; to go from such an extremely poor and underprivileged area to such a rich and comfortable one. It is hard to hear people complain about, what seem to me, trivial problems. I have to keep reminding myself that people only have their own experience and everything is relevant to that. But on the flight home to Sydney I had the displeasure of sitting near a particularly arrogant buffoon, who kept complaining to the stewards. ’I need more Tabasco for my bloody mary.’ ‘My fish is too dry I can’t eat it. Get me another one.’ I could have clocked him the head. I wanted to shout at him ‘You are on a plane! You are in economy class! Get over yourself!’. But I kept it in and ravaged the best meal that I had had in months. Either airline food has come along way or I was desperate.

Although, I have been expecting it for sometime and I thought I was prepared for it, it was still difficult getting the news about my Nanna. No doubt this was further exacerbated by the fact that I was in the middle of nowhere with no one really close to talk to about it. Even though I have travel much further a field in my times, I don’t think I have ever felt so far from home. At first I didn’t know what to feel and what to do. I was in reeling wandering around the house. I guess that is shock for you. But I got it together and got back home fairly quickly in the end.

Back home, everyone was much happier, making jokes and being more upbeat then I had imagined they would be. We don’t get together much these days, with us all living in different parts of the world. My parents, sisters and I have not stayed under one roof in about 10 years, so in many ways it was a happy reunion. But as usual everyone tried to boss me around.

The funny thing about families they can be simultaneously the most critical and supportive people in you life. They know the right and wrong things to say and don’t care if they offend you. But it was really nice to see them and my friends, to go to the funeral and to say one last goodbye along side them. I am not sure how I would have coped if I had stayed in Cambodia.

After a week at home, I flew to Bankok where I met up with Lainie. Prior to the news of my grandmother we had planned a two week holiday that was cut down to one week.

In some ways it was even more challenging being in Thailand than going home. Thailand, especially Bangkok, is so much more developed than Cambodia. They are right next to each other, but they seem worlds apart. Thais have free education, a better medical support system than in Australia, roads, gutters, efficient transport, drinkable tap water, tourism and stacks of people. But there are heaps and heaps of sexpats lurking about.

From Bangkok we went to Chaing Mai where spent a few days looking at things around the moated city and a few more days trekking in the national park. Despite the fact it rained and, due to a pair of cheap Market bought shoes, I spent much of the trek sliding down muddy slopes on my arse, it was, by far, the highlight of Chaing Mai. We spent three days walking through the beautiful mountains staying with local Karen people (a minority hill group). We also went out to visit a Hmong village and to several pagodas.

The next few days we spent in Phuket, where the tourism and over development almost destroys the natural beauty of the beaches. The water was so clear and the sand so white. Paradise with people. Fortunately, we were staying a bit away from the busier beaches, so it wasn’t too bad. Lainie’s sister, her husbands (Lainie’s sisters husband that is) and their baby girl were staying in Phuket for a week, so we went to meet them. On one of the days we took a tour out to the islands, with about 500 other people, and saw the magnificent natural formations of Phi Phi Island, and went snorkelling on some beautiful reefs. Despite the people, it was still nice.

So I have been back at work this week and I have heaps to do. I only have two months left now and I wanted to make the most of it work and travel wise. This weekend has been another long week – Coronation Day. Long live the king! Today we went out to visit a friend of a friend of mine who is building a cultural village about an hour away from Kampong Thom. They are making a mini Angkor Watt, Prah Vihear, some mountains and islands with villas. It is in a nice spot and will be quite nice when it is finished – alas, that is about 3 years away.

On Saturday, Shin and I had a busy day back in Kampong Thom.

First, we went out to a farm with some of Shin’s colleagues where I had another run in with death as they slaughtered a goat. We got to watch as they cut it up. I have never watched an animal be slaughtered from start to spit, so it was all kind of gross to me. I am such a city boy. For some reason I was particularly put off by the splitting of the ribs and, because that is the way my life works and I had that thought, I got the ribs to eat. It was almost enough to make me want to be vegetarian. Cambodians, like most Asians, are not squeamish when it comes to meat. They eat the whole thing. It was a male goat, and perhaps predictably, Shin and I were also given the penis and balls to eat. I ate it, but I felt violated. So, if you are wondering what goat dick tastes like, you take a piece of string, wrap it in lamb fat and char grill it beyond recognition and it wouldn’t be far off. The balls, on the other hand, were far more diverse in flavour and texture. A very chewy outside or ‘sack meat’ that tasted similar to the penis, and stayed in my mouth far too long, with a softer tofu like consistency inner bit that had an odd egg white lamb-esk taste. I almost retched. But I got it down in the end – I swallow rather than spit - and we washed it down with copious amounts of beer. It is with a mixture of pride and gut churning illness that I re-count this event.

In the afternoon we headed out to watch the annual Kampong Thom boat races. We had been trying to angle our way onto one of the boats but, alas, had failed. So we contented ourselves by drinking beer with the locals and watching the races from the bank. It is a fairly big event on the Kampong Thom province social diary - heaps of the villagers came into town to watch. The crowd was 10 deep at the finish line and about 40 boats racing two by two. The boats are narrow long and brightly painted with, you guessed it - dragons! In the bigger boats about 50 stand and row with their whole bodies. It is amazing that they keep in time and don’t capsize. The bests boats go to Phnom Penh for the big races during the national water festival in November.

In the evening, I went along to another party. There is a new foreigner, Oskar, in town with his Khmer fiancé and they were having a house warming. The party was a typical Khmer affair. Men on one side of the room, women on the other. Great food, loads of beer and dancing around a table. But it was still fun. I realised while I was there just how much my Khmer has improved. I was having conversations right, left and centre.

On Sunday I followed up my hangover with another party. This one was for one of my drinking buddies’, Peng, kids birthdays. Another drinking friend, Taut, has just had a new born, so it was a bit of a double celebration of young life. It is a bit unusual for Khmers to celebrate birthdays, but the richer ones do. Again there was great food, beer and dancing around a table. The kids sprayed foam and silly string while the fathers threw cake at each other. I was enjoying dancing with the kids (sometimes I get the feeling I get invited to things for my entertainment value) but owing to the excitement of the previous day I made my excuses and left early to watch a ghost movie on TV.

Last week, when I got back from work I noticed that one of the staff (who lives with my boss out the back of the office – I am not sure how they are related) had two black eyes and appeared to be nursing his ribs. The other staff told me he had been in a bad traffic accident a few days before. It was too expensive for home to stay in the hospital so the family were looking after him. He had been on a moto with two of his friends when they crashed with another moto. One of his friends died and the rest were badly injured. Not wearing a helmet - he was lucky.

The other day I also had the miss-fortune of walking in on some staff watching a graphic Police video from a tourist bus crash in Vietnam. The video featured dead people missing all sorts of body parts, one especially terrible decapitation, lying contoured over the road. It was clearly a terrible accident and nearly the whole office was watching it together. I was both repulsed and intrigued by the video. I had never seen anything quiet so graphic before.

And so it is that I have been thinking about death a bit of late. I use to think that the Khmers had a certain nonchalance to death, that they did not value life as much as we did; that they had more children in order to compensate for their lack of life span. Certainly the way they flaunt safety on the roads and on building sights gives that impression. But the reaction of my Khmer friends from work when I told them that my grandmother had died was both tender and compassionate. To them, it was clear that I should go home and grieve with my family. For Khmer people, it is important to look after your family and to grieve with them. But I have come to realise that I was, yet again, brining my own cultural prejudice to the fore. I was judging their ways from my own experiences. Khmers don’t know how to do things more safely, or if they do, then the cost of doing things safer, exceeds the value of doing something. Like us, they take calculated risks. It is just that calculations in a developing world are lower than in the developed world. Death is more frequent, public and accepted - but it is still a time for grief and respect.

I hope everyone is well.

Good bye Nanna. I miss you.

Erin

Cambodia - Part 18

20th September 2007

Blood lines

So I have now been here for six months. It seems like the time has flown by, but at the same time it feels like it has been so long since I left home. Things are going well though. I feel like I have really settled into things now – both at work and at home.

I do miss home though. I miss the familiarity and the ease of it all. I especially miss my friends and family and the ease of conversation that you can have with them. It is strange though. It comes in waves, often when I least expect it...

I am well known around Kampong Thom now. Out of a population of over 50,000 there are about 8 foreigners, and given my height and pale complexion I tend to stand out. At the local restaurants the staff often come up and talk to me, occasionally I get caught up in an importune English lesson or they teach me some Khmer words. Some of the younger guys like to hug me from behind and rub my belly (I think they thick it is good luck). It is kind off putting when you are trying to eat, but that is how they are here. It is a sign of affection and acceptance, so it is kind of nice. I still find it funny that guys can be so openly touchy and feely toward each other, but if they touched a girl there would be uproar.

A few weeks ago Shin’s NGO organised a HIV/AIDS workshop for local NGO workers dealing with HIV/AIDS. The workshop was run by a Nigerian girl who was an expert in HIV/AIDS. I decided to go along and learn a bit more about HIV/AIDS and to see what the Khmer people thought about it. There were definitely some naive and funny questions. But my favourite was “If a man puts on a condom and they sneezed wouldn’t it fly off?” Of course, we weren’t suppose to laugh about this, but it was hard not to. I learnt a bit myself though, I didn’t know much about the anti-viral treatments used to treat people living with HIV/AIDS and how they worked. It also put into my head what a really terrible disease it can be and how much people must suffer both physically and mentally after acquiring it. It is a death sentence - a slow and painful one. It is really quite scary.

As part of the workshop we went out to visit the local VCCT Clinic at the local hospital. The VCCT clinic offers free blood tests and counselling for people who want to get tested for HIV. The doctor there told us that about 6% of the people that come through the clinic are infected with HIV. That is a massive figure for any disease, but for a disease that is practically a death sentence, it is horrifying.

Throughout the course it became apparent that many of the participants were a bit shy about talking about some of the subjects, especially sex and were unsure of how the whole blood tests worked. So, after checking with the course convener that it was safe to do so, I volunteered to go through the blood test and counselling in front of the group.

Now there is a new experience. Sitting in a room with a doctor, translator and a group of Khmer NGO workers talking about my sex life – I could tell when the personal questions were coming because the room would giggle before I got the translation and then giggle again after I answered. The good news is that I don’t have HIV. Even though I was pretty sure I didn’t, it was still a nerve racking 15 minute wait (I can’t imagine how it would have been like to wait for weeks like in the bad old days) with the images I had been looking at over the past few days whirling though my mind. Made worse by the fact that everyone kept coming up to me and asking ‘aren’t you scared?’ - well, I wasn’t. But now you guys are making me nervous. When I went back in for the results my translator, Song, jumped in the air, cheered and high-fived me. I assumed all was good at that point – but checked the test results anyway.

After I demonstrated to the group how easy it was a few other of the participants also decided to get blood tests while we were there. And I suspect a few went back after. I think it was a great relief, especially for the women, to know they were negative (they just don’t know whether there husbands are playing safe of not and it is not cool for them to ask). So, I am happy that I choose to lead by example.

That night Shin (who also took the test after me) and I decided to celebrate the Khmer way by getting drunk and picking up some hookers at the local Karaoke Bar – I am joking. About the drinking. OK - And the hookers.

Aside from the training I have been quite busy at work. I am progressing on my ‘sustainable communities’ project – putting together concept notes, training plans and proposals. I have started to organise the start of a strategic planning for my NGO – we are going to go on a staff retreat in October to put it together. I have been doing background research on databases and monitoring the information flows throughout the organisation so I can build an effective database. It is good – I feel like things are progressing well and that I am going to achieve a few things before I wrap up. If I had left now I would not have been close to getting any of these near completion.

Aside from my work, I have also been to a few more community meetings after hours and I managed to organise a few days away to show Lainie’s NGO a little about databases and Access. In return, Lainie gave me some information on Quickbooks (a financial management program). I plan on integrating Quickbooks into a management database for my NGO, so all the information about the NGO is just at their finger tips. I hope. I am really learning on the run myself.

Aside from work and my visit to Poipet, not a lot has been happening. I have just been hanging around Kampong Thom a lot. It gets tedious travelling so much and sometimes it is nice just to kick around the house and hang out with my friends Kampong Thom. Although, I am usually bored out of my mind by the time Sunday night comes around. There are only so many times I can get drunk and sing Karaoke. Aside from travelling, drinking, reading or watch crap TV there ain’t a whole lot to do in rural Cambodia.

One thing that I did do the other day was drink snakes blood. We were at one of the guys houses drinking when they pulled it out. O had mentioned previously that I was keen to try the snake blood drink. Don’t get any romantic visions of them draining a snake into my drink. It was in a dirty old Johnny walker bottle. Apparently blood layers if you leave it for long enough – the congealed bits settle to the bottom. So you have to give it a good shake before you pour it. Just like a popper! I won’t lie – it looked and smelt foul. They poured the blood into my glass then topped it up with some whisky. I could feel the bile rising in the back of my throat as I looked at the glass, so I snatched it up and downed it in one go before my body stopped me. And the taste – well, surprisingly, it didn’t taste that bad. The whisky flavour dominated so I didn’t actually taste the blood. Apparently drinking snakes blood makes you more virile. So, look out ladies…

I also heard the other day that men here drink fermented baby deer antlers as a kind of natural viagra. I am not joking – it sells for about $100 for a little bottle and Khmer friends (educated men) swear it works. But they did warn me, if you take it and you are too young (i.e. not yet a man) then you will start bleeding from your eyes and ears. I might give that one a miss then…

On a completely different topic - I was reading a book the other day that mentioned that Pol Pot grew up in Kampong Thom. I was a bit spun out by this and started to make a few subtle enquiries, thinking that I might be able to go and check out his house. It turns out his childhood house is on the same street that I work on! It is a long street, but I must have gone past it a few times. Apparently his brother and sister still live there. I am still quite keen to check it out, but word on the street is – is that his brother is still quite pissed off about his brother being Pol Pot and is not exactly welcoming to the attention.

The brother only found out that Pol Pot was his brother after the Khmer Rouge’s brutal reign. He didn’t know Pol Pot was his brother because Pol Pot is not his real name – he changed from Salot Sor to Pol Pot after he returned to Cambodia from studying in Paris and hooked up with the Khmer Rouge. When the Khmer Rouge took over the country they destroyed television and news papers, so the family of Salot Sor had no idea that Pol Pot was there brother. The family of Salot Sor were treated the same as everyone else during the Khmer Rouge – they too were forced from their homes and into labour camps. Many of Salot Sor’s family died during the Khmer Rouge period, no doubt hoping that there brother was still in Paris and avoiding all the horror. So when the pictures of Pol Pot and his the story of his past came to light, after the regime had fallen, the remanets of Salot Sor’s family finally found out that their brother was the leader of a regime that brutally killed many of their family and friends. I can understand why he might be pissed off about that…it ain’t like your sister taking your CD without asking.

I hope my family and friends are well. Happy Birthday Helen!

Take care
e.

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.