OPERATIONAL DISTRICT: CHHOUK
HEALTH CENTERS: MEAN CHEY
We wake up at 6:30, to depart at 7:00.
There is a diaspora of looks in Cambodia. I ask D and T what the 'average' Cambodian looks like and they point to themselves. However, I also notice a lot of people that tend to look more Chinese, and some that tend to look more Indian. They tell me that Cambodians are all really mixed now, and so having a pure 'Cambodian' is kind of a weird concept. They generally have really tanned skin that is reddish brown, and have high cheekbones. Other than that, the defining quality would be that they can converse in Khmer fluently. This is a difference compared to ethnic categorizatoin that we see in the west. Since Cambodia has a range of looks then what defines "Cambodian" is actually quite a wide concept. I was mistaken for Cambodian many times, until one of the guys said to the owners I wasn't, or I opened my mouth and tried to speak broken Khmer.
Sunrise in the countryside is even more beautiful than sunset. It's the start of the new working day, and farmers are out early working on their fields. The sun shining on the rice fields make for beautiful photographs. Compared to the Singaporean sun, the Cambodian sun is a lot more direct and strong since there is not much cloud coverage that blocks the rays. I see the farmers out there in long sleeves and pants, feet dipped into the water of the paddies, trying to complete the harvest. I can only imagine how hot it is. But, the work has to be done. The palm trees are still there, and interspersed into the landscape are the various white cows that are grazing, or resting in the road.
D says that the palm tree is the most important tree in Cambodia. It provides everything, from palm sugar, to coconut water, to leaves for thatching a roof. And, its growing conditions are not too picky. They will grow anywhere they can. As such, it has become the national tree of Cambodia for all that it provides to the people. "It is the tree of my people." he says. And, they are a defining trait. Off in the plans of Malaysia, you will see a lot of green foliage and dense clusters of trees, but the palm tree in Cambodia is not packed as tightly. It's a little bit more spread out. Also, because agriculture is prominent in the country, you see a lot of flat lands with crops growing as opposed to high rise trees. It is only in the places where agriculture is not performed where you see the bushes and coconut trees. Here in the country, the land serves to provide to the people. It's consistently beautiful. As I doze in and out of consciousness on the roads, I always wake up to see the wonderful landscape.
On our way to the next site, we pass by a few houses spread out by few tens of meters from each other. I notice that each house is surrounded by about 9 or 10 coconut trees, almost like a fortress to the household, with one side open, facing the road. It provides everything, including shade for the households. The road conditions through the villages are not paved, but are made of dirt. It's not just any generic brown dirt, but reddish and brown in color -- mahogany, maybe -- much like the rich hues of the Cambodians' skin color. The color is deep and the conditions wet from the night rains the night before.
We get to the health center and this time T is in charge of the session, administering the questionnaire and talking with the village workers (VHSGs). This time, all the VHSGs are congregated around a table. This group is more mixed, with majority men but representation from two younger women, probably in their 30s or 40s. They are the first women I've seen volunteering, a good sign seeing as maternal health is a necessity in these areas. D and I sit in the background and monitor while T delivers, and engages with the health workers. The wind is blowing softly in the shade and these VHSGs look like they're enjoying the process. Although T has not explicitly told me about his feelings towards this project, I can tell his interest through the way he administers the survey. He is patient and takes time to explain to the people why this study is important, and how it can help them. He smiles, and jokes with the VHSGs.
Scooters are abundant in Cambodia as I have stated before in the previous entry. I ask how much normally a scooter costs and what I get instead is a breakdown by model and brand. "If you buy a new one, 2016 model, it will be 2000 USD," says T, "but if you buy an older model, it can be as low as 500 USD, so it depends." There are a few models parked outside of the health center. "See, that one is 2016. Very expensive. that one is older, maybe 2009, less expensive." I'm surprised that they know it by year. "Of course, even D knows. Everyone knows!"
"That one there is Honda Dream new model. Honda is the most popular model in Cambodia." They proceed to tell me that Honda models for scooters are the most popular brand. The Dream model is the highest in demand but also the priciest. But, for cars, it's completely different. Cars, what is popular is Toyota and more recently, Mazda. These are the models that you'll usually see around. It's not just new models, either, there are many old models of cars that are bought used from the U.S. and resold in Cambodia. As such, you'll see a lot of old models of cars such as the 1995 Toyota Corolla. The boxy model. I hadn't seen a model of that since my childhood. I love how scooters are a point of conversation. We talk about the culture around scooters and the status around them. For the VHSGs, sometimes having a scooter is important to reach all the villages and get the job done. "One thing is for sure though. Japanese are good at designing the scooters, but Cambodians are good at maximizing their potential." Another reference to the innovation of the Cambodians. I've seen scooters with carts linked onto the back of them that can carry up to 20 people. I've seen people stack coconut leaves and logging carts to the back of them to ship wood, metal cro-bars, and other building materials. I've seen one carrying a long-shaped canoe logged out from the local trees. I've seen families of 6 stacked onto one, and friends chatting happily to each other on one scooter, three abreast. Sometimes you even see two or three in tandem with friend chatting across to each other. The best are those with cages attached to them and carrying the white cows in them. They're all happily cruising along. And so, taking pictures of these people captures, in some sense, an organic nature of Cambodians.
All throughout the country, there are explicit signs aligning themselves to a political party. Most often, you see the Cambodia People's Party signs, with two figures depicted on the sign. This is the prime minister, and some other person in a high up position (i.e. head of senate). Another member passed away recently. When I ask D and T about them, they talk about the corruption of the government, and how these signs are put up not necessarily to show support, but rather, for diplomatic immunity should higher officials come to inspect the centers. In these regions, political allegiance is the most important thing. "But," D says, " That's all the government cares about. Their status and their support. When we talk about the Cambodian people, they are poor and the government has not done much for them. I wish that they can fix this and really represent the people as opposed to just strive for power. They're corrupt" And so, I look at the Cambodia People's Party sign, with the two party members looking off into the horizon, with tiny "pow!" or "bam!" backgrounds like you used to see in those old school communist posters. This adds a glory-inducing image of these leaders. The face of a rising Cambodia and prospects for the future. I contrast this with the VHSGs who are hard at work in their local setting providing care for its people. The party sign is hung outside the health center entrance and overlooks the health center; the pride (and corruption) of the country, staked into its very earth.
When we go to the villages, many of the entries will be framed by a large pagoda. These pagodas look new, and look like they cost a lot of money. As Cambodia is a Buddhist majority country, these pagodas are a testament to their fath and are framed around the entry for auspicious reasons. T had something to say about these. He said that although faith is good, they would hope that there is more economic growth in the area and not such a blind contribution to pagoda building. Apparently, there will be donations from local villagers to build a pagoda in their village, even if they do not have enough money to support building one. As such, many people will borrow money so they can contribute to the establishment of these structures, that can cost upwards of 10,000 USD. "It's not good. Faith is good. But, why do we focus on developing pagodas, and not the status of its people? Faith and Buddha do not feed hungry bodies."
So, in a country heavily steeped in its faith, they are willing to build these structures for blessings to the village. "It is what it is" says T.
This is rather nonsequitur, but along the way I try a fresh Kampot coconut. The lady uses a knife to cut a small opening on the coconut tip so that a straw can fit in for drinking. The juice is the sweetest I've ever had. After I finish, the lady cuts the coconut in half and takes part of the shell and carves it into a flat portion just slightly rounded at the edges. It's a natural spoon from the coconut shell. The flesh is the most supple I've ever tasted.
Country roads are notoriously tough to get around especially after rain. Many cars pass by and dent the earth and once the earth dries, it's difficult for a large van to traverse across these areas. We encountered this first hand while dropping off D to the last site of the day. We tried a little too hard to power through the terrain and the front wheels dug themselves into the mud that was still there. The bottom of the car was scratched up, but there was nothing we could do now. We stood there for about twenty minutes trying to figure out what to do. A, our driver, quickly got on his knees and began throwing his hands into the mud to try to put some bricks and logs to prop up the front wheels and give it a platform to move forward. His DGAF attitude was great, it wasn't about getting too dirty, it was a job that needed to be done. His tenacity was admirable and necessary for us to get out of that situation. He picked up a shovel and began scooping dirt to fill in the potholes along the way. Sweat pouring down his head, mud on his pants at the knees, and up to his elbows.
After a wihle of not budging, we had to call upon the health of some other people. We happened to be stuck in a village and some of the kids nearby began to form a crowd. Two of them were sitting on a log nearby with torn clothes, watching in amazement at the stuck car. Nearby, a little girl sitting on a bike with her little sister sitting on the front edge of the seat. They're chatting quietly in Khmer as we get to work. Some of the older kids who are about 15 then decide to come help us with pushing the car. Three of them help us push in the back while A revs the car. The car throws up a bunch of mood and the engine revs loudly, but slowly the car inches past the mud, onto the bricks and wood stacked by A, and then out of the mudpits. The bottom of the car is leaking water now. We quickly get D to his site to conduct his VHSG, as T and I head to the next place.
On the way out, we pass by a road where a group of ten or so farmers are gathered for the local harvest. They are standing around and watching the tractor bring in the grains for the day. The sun begins to slowly set at this time too, and so the crepuscular rays strike the field at an oblique angle, creating a shadow effect of the tractors. Many people are sitting on their scooters and chatting, while some people are out in the fields picking the crop before the night rains come in. I feel like I'm a part of the countryside at this moment, even if only observing from inside the car, passing by for a second. The rules in the country are more relaxed, there are people more at ease. I see a kid driving a tractor on the main road, he cann't be more than 12, but has a capable set of hands to do the job. Also on the way out, I see a woman and her child drowing on a boat in the rice fields. They're making their way across the field to the other side, while a man (I imagine her husband) is swimming in the rice fields. His body, up to the neck, is covered in water as he bobs in and out of the water, head sinking, head rising, washing the day off. The children look and do that blank stare that children so often do.
We end up missing the last meeting since we were delayed with the car. That's how things go here, though, timing's always a bit off and people either are willing or not to wait for you. It's night time already so it's dark, and the VHSGs had to get home, so we just missed the last session. I've found them to be incredibly patient with us thus far and always at ease, maybe it's a good sign we're doing our job. We head into Takeo province for the guest house and get ready to call it a night.
It has already begun to rain slightly on the way back, but it clears, leaving a thin film of water on the paved roads. On the way, we pick up some streetside sandwiches being prepared by a villager. Everything but the stall itself and the house behind where they live is pitch black. The consumption of electricity is sparse, but it illuminates the night like a lighthouse, with its fluorescent light buzzing away and insects congregating nearby it. The lady blends in effortlessly into the night, almost being swallowed by it if it were not for her singular lamp and stove. Her husband nearby cooks chicken wings over a wire mesh. When we step outside and have a bite it's absolutely quiet until the next car or motorbike passes. Occasionally you hear the squeaky wheels of a bicycle pedal by. The kind of quiet without any distinguishable unnatural sound, only the sound of insects. W in his generosity, who has yet to speak much of a word to me, offers me one of his chicken wings. He gestures to dip it into the vegetables and eat it. I take it as a token of friendship.
The car windows are all muddied, and the pipes below are leaking. "A" quickly washes the car and tries to repair the pipe while we go out for dinner. Porridge and duck eggs again. When we get back, he has converted the middle seats of the car to a bed and he said he'd be sleeping there for the night. With regards to the pipe, he set up a small plastic bag resting atop a cardboard box to catch the water, so as to not leak on the guesthouse premises. He smiles and does not complain. Neither do we, as we're glad that the long day is over, and finally it's time to get some sleep.