Friday 6 April 2012

Phnom Penh's Riverfront

The hotel that Dawn and I stays in lies along the Riverfront, overlooking the Tonle Sap, a lake which extends into the Mekong River, where come each October, it would turn quite festive, with Cambodians celebrating the Water Festival to commemorate the reversal of tides after a rainy season.


During the past few days, other than the touristy things I do (am very thankful most of the touristy things are quite near the Riverfront so I do not have to venture too far out which, which works well for my lack of a good sense of direction), I got to spend a lot of time at the Riverfront, which became one of my favourite places.


The Riverfront seems to manifest the paradox which exists in much of Cambodia. It is mostly appealing, especially the lake itself. Hordes of tourists as well as local dating couples throng the boat cruises that sail into the Mekong River. If one chooses the ideal timing to go onboard (which Dawn and I discovered it to be 5.30pm), one would be assured of a gratifying combinations of the gentle twilight of the day culminating in a majestic sunset before easing itself into night, complete with Khmer pop songs.


There is a great deal of life along the riverbank too. Locals who live on floating villages nearby would dock their boat by the bank, possibly to replenish their daily necessities and also to sell their day's catch (fishes), I am guessing?






The men would wait by the shore while the womenfolk go to the local market just across the road from the river bank. They would be back in a while’s time, carrying their heavy supplies for the day on circular rattan baskets (typically used for drying food) and in acrobatic style, runs down the 45 degree slopes along the riverfront, into boats that await them. Am very impressed!








Along the huge boulevard on the riverfront, groups of locals gather at various spots to exercise and dance (which somewhat resembles line dancing) to different Khmer folk music which adds to the cacophony on the busy streets. A particular Khmer folk music even sings to the tune of the nursery song ‘Five Little Ducks Went Out One Day’! Not surprisingly, this part of the riverfront attracts many tourists.




At the other end of the riverfront however, opposite the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda, presents a slightly different scene, injecting several doses of reality. Here, there aren't as many tourists. Several old women lug and hawk heavy containers of food and snacks. A well-dressed Caucasian man blatantly goes up to and seeks a sexual favour from a young Cambodian girl sitting next to me. 

There are many beggars too, and after a while, many questions come to mind which would require a certain amount of rationalisation and hence discomfort – why do I give money to a child beggar who looks on with imploring eyes but decide not to buy from a child selling styrofoam-wrapped mango (as I don’t eat mango)? Both types of acts are discouraged, according to local travelling advice  (as this could discourage the parents from sending them to school). But when I did what I did, did the child who is attempting to earn an honest living decide then that it must be easier to survive when he begs? Perhaps it is more okay to give to the elderly and the physically handicapped as they are very unlikely to be able to find jobs in a land where 9 out of 10 graduates (2005 statistics) are unemployed? After a while, these questions start to spiral.

In spite of all that, my time here makes me feel hopeful about the country, simply because it is a nation where its young seem so energised and an extremely hardworking lot. It seems difficult to find a non-hardworking young person here. At the NGO where I volunteered, a typical young Cambodian teacher works in the day and rushes off to study in the evening. Sometimes, he may even try to squeeze in some valuable learning time during the 2 hour lunch siesta. Come weekends, he may hold another job, depending on what skills he possesses. If something can’t work out, he will look for another outlet (apparently many tuk-tuk drivers in Phnom Penh are IT graduates and I think I just saw one outside my hotel studying very hard for an exam while keeping an eye out for potential customers).
Given such ingenuity and creativeness in its younger generation, I hope that they will succeed in carving a bright future for themselves.  

The many sides of trees

Trees have always fascinated me. I think in my previous life, I must have been a tree, for my favourite colours are green (first) and brown (second). I also love what a tree stands for – continuing aspirations and ambitions yet with roots firmly planted in the ground. In particular, I love old trees, especially banyan trees which have withstand centuries and with so much history behind them. 
Old trees took on a different meaning for me yesterday though when I visited the Choeung Ek Genocidal Center, or what is more commonly known as the Killing Fields. The very peaceful nature of the place (despite the throngs of tourists) belies a place filled with so much dread and evil just about more than 30 years ago. Out in the fields, there are two trees which I will remember for a long long time.


The first is the most captivating one in the fields for there are many colourful bracelets adorning it. It has a sinister name though – 'The Killing Tree’. It was so named because it was where the Khmer soldiers-executioners grabbed babies and children by their legs and smash their skulls against, before throwing their bodies into the mass grave next to it. The colourful bracelets were a way to remember the many young and innocent lives robbed.
The second tree has a huge canopy and looks very very reassuring especially during a very hot day. It is called ‘The Magic Tree’. It was where a loudspeaker was hung during the genocide, from which loud revoluntionary songs played out each night to mask the screams of masses of people brought in on trucks from the Tuol Sleng High School where they were tortured, to be killed and buried in mass graves at the Killing Fields. For the Khmer Rouge soldiers, perhaps the 'magic' existed in that not many discovered the atrocities committed until after the Khmer Rouge regime ended a few years later. People just assumed there were rounds and rounds of communist meetings in the place each night.  
Trees will never be the same again.

Thursday 5 April 2012

Mr V


Mr V is our tuk-tuk driver who ferried us from place to place daily during the past 3 weeks. It is really so important to have a reliable and trustworthy one which could make or break a long-term stay in a country. Dawn and I were very lucky to have one in him. In fact, we quite quite adore him.

It must be said though that verbal Interactions with Mr V for the past three weeks were limited, as we assume (not sure from where) that he has both limited receptive and expressive abilities in English. Our day typically start with exchanges of smiles in the morning when he picks us up and saying ‘Or Koon’ (thank you) at the end of our working day. Towards the end of our volunteering period when we were equipped with a slightly expanded repertoire of Khmer vocabulary, we added ‘Soos day’ (Hello) and subsequently ‘Sok sebai dai’ (how are you) in our daily interactions with him. He will always have a kindly nod and a zen smile for us, and am always very patient. Not least to say, he often has a bemused look whenever we try our very best to speak long sentences of Khmer to him.  
One of my favourite rituals during my commute is to observe him through his tuk tuk's rear-view mirrors as he navigates calmly through the busy traffic; it fascinates me how he seems to know everyone in the community, exchanging greetings as he swirls around the community which he is so familiar with. He seems to be well-regarded in the community; I reckon he could probably run for the village headman, if there is such a position.
He seems to hold a special place in his heart when it comes to children, which could explain why he opts to be a ‘child-safe’ driver  --  child-safe tuk-tuk drivers in Phnom Penh are trained by NGO Friends-International to protect street children from abusive situations (especially child prostitution) through their ChildSafe Network. These drivers need to go through training and are recognized by the ChildSafe shirt or cap they wear and the ChildSafe logo (a thumbs up sign) on their tuk tuks. Such active citizenry must be given the thumbs-up literally – it shows that everyone can play a part, no matter who you are.
Mr V comes across as a simple man, but definitely not a simplistic man. He has deep, wrinkly lines on his face which possibly belies a lifetime of hard work; it makes me wonder how life for him was during the Pol Pot regime during the late 1970s. Despite the difficult life he must have been through, he appears to be someone who appreciates and finds joy in everyday life. He notices and turns to smile at a young toddler walking by the roadside; he is easily amused too, such as when seeing a playful young couple zooming him by on a motorbike.
In fact, I can not imagine Mr V accosting for passengers – he seems too dignified for that.  I am glad hence that he is attached to Riverkids, meaning to say he transports volunteers around, which I hope means a more stable business for him (as there will be more or less a constant supply of volunteers from time to time). His prices are honestly reasonable, compared to those charged by many a tuk-tuk driver alongside the street who often accosts one with a playful starting line "Lady, tuk-tuk for you?"
I wish Mr V well.