OPERATIONAL DISTRICT: TAKEO
HEALTH CENTERS: KRAING SLA
06:00 call, and we're on our way. It's raining today in Phnom Penh. We pick up W and K, both are soaked in the rain, but they still have good spirits.
W still has not spoken much to me up until this point. Actually, I don't think he really ever well. It's not that he doesn't like me, he's just shy. But there'll be times I make a joke in English and he laughs. He actually has similar humor to me. In the car, he's always the one joking and keeping the car lively. Him, A, D, and T are like a group of close friends when they joke around, comfortable making even the silliest of jokes. When you're stuck in a car so many hours in a day, you learn to form bonds really quickly.
He's spoken few words, but there's a tacit understanding that we're doing this work together and that we get along. He still opens the car door and lets me go in first. When we sit down for breakfast today, he kindly points to the cart of the lady cooking and says "soup, soup!" and smiles, giving a thumbs up. I clean his utensils for him and sometimes he'll serve me the rice first. I love how about the verbal communication there is this indirect communication and gesture to show that he cares. It's all in the body language realm, a sort of 'paralanguage' through which we communicate and express our mutual friendship. I wish in this moment I spoke more Khmer, he seems like a super cool guy.
D gets a call while we are going to drop W off. He says a lot of "Bat, bat', baaaat" (pronounced baht, like a baaing of the sheep punctuated by the closure between the tongue and the palate), which just means yes, yes, yeah in Khmer. When he gets off he says to me the lady from Friday wants to thank us for taking her child to the clinic and saving her life. Again, D says nothing about how he feels. He doesn't say he feels so good for helping people, etc. but just smiles. I know he feels proud that he's helped his people but his humility prevents him from vocalizing his sentiments. He just knows that he is satisfied with the work that he's doing, and is glad that he could help in some way. Never was it about him.
W gets dropped off, and the next one is K. Going in, the landscape completely changes. The shift is gradual, almost unnoticed until you realize the flora in this region are very different to those in other provinces. The vast acres of rice field with coconut trees are replaced with tall trees of a thinner stalk, as if you are in some forest fairy tale. They stagger their horizontal growth so there is no order to the arrangement of the trees, unlike we notice with the planted rice fields, or sometimes the palms. The ground is covered in dead leaves from the trees above and brown matter as opposed to rich green fields. It's still raining, and the gentle patter of the rain on the dead leaves reverberates through the forest at different intervals, creating small 'clack' sounds individually and orchestraly some blacking background noise. The sky is grey and the rest of the forest seems more dim as a result. The smell of the trees permeate through the windows and the rich smell of a fresh 'tree' (this is really the best way to explain it..) reaches into car. I haven't smelled naturally-scented air that fresh in a while.
Turns out, after talking to the resident phytochemist, D, he says this region used to be a larger stretch of primary forest that had been cleared out for agriculture. A confirms this, as he grew up in the region and recalls how there used to be dense forest in this area. Still, we drive through at this 'new forest' that had artificial trees planted to revive the dense shrubbery. Among the new trees D observes some traces of the original forest as well as some original rocks that were always in the region. "When you have the rocks there, and the soil, it makes for very fertile grounds for forest growth."
While traveling through the forest, A and D are looking around at the plants nearby while driving. The road is bumpy so D does most of the looking while A only periodically looks when the view of the road ahead is smooth for 20 or so meters. At one point, they stop the car and both jump out. To my right there is a dirt ditch wher water can be irrigated out of the system, and they both jump across this small dried out riverbed and onto the 'other side' of the road. They disappear into the forest and the bushes, only emerging a few minutes later.
D tells me that they were looking for a specific plant that helped for male impotence that is now very rare in Cambodia. "It's quite common in Malaysia and Indonesia, but no longer Cambodia." He leaves it at that, and chuckles a bit perhaps because we're discussing the topic of male impotence. I tell him I really like how he jumps out of the car and goes into the forest to explore, along with his right-hand-man and driver, A. They complement each other well both when carrying in conversation in the car, and when doing fieldwork. It's no wonder that A knows so much about plants in the region and that D always asks A to come along to most of his fieldwork experiences. They're like a Cambodian Lewis and Clark. After all, "A" does have a plant species in Cambodia named after him (the Latin, not the common name). They return back into the car and A resumes to drive. "Nope, wasn't it."
We stop by for lunch now. At this point it's felt like all we've done is eat, since we went from breakfast, to dropping off the other crew, to eating. We order a fish soup and some duck meat on the bones. The fish soup has a sweet-ish taste and a tint of rosemary, unlike any fish soup I've had in the past. In addition, there is a small plate of cabbage fried together with beef. The flavor is more authentic because the food tastes a bit saltier as opposed to sour or sweet, which would "be more of a blend between Vietnam and Thailand" says D. As usual, I'm eating away and impressed with the different foods I'm privileged enough to try here. My descriptions in English really don't do them justice. There are so many different textures and organs here in the soups, it's unbeievable.
It's rare to meet people that are genuinely invested in the work they do, and I've sung his praises many times but D is one among few I've met. The more I get to know him and spend time with him in the field, the more he opens up about various topics and his opinions on them. I can trust his opinions on these matters because although he is proud to be Cambodian through-and-through, he has also spent some time abroad and realizes the shortcomings of his government. He's intrigued by my experience. Coming from the U.S., being able to speak Chinese, and also being able to live in Singapore. He asks me what's next on my agenda, and I tell him about my plans: maybe to move to this country, maybe move to that country. I figure while I'm still young and don't have as many responsibilities, this is a great chance to explore as many opportunities as I can. I ask him if he wants to stay in Cambodia or would consider living abroad, but I kind of already know his answer. Still, it makes for a great point of conversation. I could be wrong, right? So, I ask.
"No" he says shaking his head, in a slight downward tone, "I want to stay here."
He was one of the 'lucky ones.' He was able to afford studying abroad and able to get his doctorate, a feat that very few people can say they've done, especially in a developing coutry. I say that's very good, and how Cambodia needs more people like him. People who are from Cambodia and understand Cambodians working among their people. Too often in developing countries, retention rates of the most educated are difficult since there are higher incentives elsewhere. There is that strive to be more western in thought, in belief, in salary. It's as if the only way to succeed is to adopt the western mindset and western ideas. "And people here are suspicious of that, too." D says.
Cambodia was actually one of the strongest countries of the region before their civil war. Even stronger than Singapore. You wouldn't think of it now, as it wasn't in our lifetime, but this was absolutely the case. Their contributions to ancient culture are also stunning, as I was able to witness in the National Museum. But again, this wasn't in our lifetime, it's tucked away in the books and museums. It's become an artifact and antediluvian to Cambodia's current situation. A country so rich in cultural history has managed to pseudo preserve it, yes, but it hasn't had much success in making its history visible to the current generation, both domestically and globally. So, what do we think when we think of Cambodia? Sad people trying to emerge from civil war. Pol Pot. Genocide. Poverty. Sad country. In fact, the first few things are what people don't want to talk about. And, in fact, I've found the people quite contented and hopeful.
"Yes, Jason, I'm glad you read your history. Our history preserves our culture and our contributions to civilization. You know, when I studied in France I would notice some people say that they thought I wasn't that smart or capable because I was from Cambodia. 'Cambodia?!' they say, as if I'm from a poor developing country. It's OK, I understand, it's just ignorance. They think I'm from a war torn country, which is true. But I wish they can see th beautiful side of my country and come to understand us. There are some really ignorant people."
"When I return here, some people are suspicious of my education because I'm Western educated and influenced in my thinking. But I don't think so, I feel so Cambodian. Yes, I lived in France and enjoyed it very much, but I feel at home here." I recall seeing him on the motorbike in front of me the Friday before. I also recall all his friendly conversations with locals and the health center directors. He really is Cambodian at heart, I find. But, he's chosen to be here. He's ignored the incentives abroad and he's understood the idea that his education -- his "Western education" may be fearful for many of its citizens. But, he's still treading, and doing a remarkable job staying afloat a sea of doubt. "I feel like a part of my community here. I am very optimistic that despite people suspicious of my education I can impact my community." With him, there's no issue of the 'brain drain' - educated people leaving Cambodia's shores. He knows his purpose and his people. He's making the connections as he goes along. That clarity in purpose is just what Cambodia needs.
It's not all sentimets and sop, either. He chats about Cambodian culture and gives me the scoop on childhood here in the past 30 years. Chinese influence is extremely strong and he can name out Chinese, Taiwanese, and Hong Kong pop stars just like that. He summarizes some old Chinese folklore and says that Chinese movies, both modern and classical, were very popular for him while growing up. He lists a few titles that I have never heard of. "Ohhhhh such good movies, you have to see them!" He knows the classics like Jackie Chan, Teresa Teng, Jet Li, and continues to name off some other big names. He pronounces the names of the movies with a remarkably accurate Chinese tonal pronunciation, even though he's learned the names in Cambodian. It's not just Cambodia though, Chinese influence has had a large impact on a lot of Vietnamese and Thai popular culture as well. And so, in this region, China is the big provider, and the other developing countries are the receptacles, absorbing trickles of Chinese culture within their borders. He hums "The Moon Represents My Heart" by Teresa Teng. Such a classical song, with similar melodies to the Cambodian ballads I heard the weekend on the drive back to Phnom Penh.
It's been raining all day, and the sun has finally set. It's pitch black now in the countryside and the only things that are lit are the houses, streetside food carts, and the wedding tents. We pass by 5 or 6 wedding tents in various places throughout their day. They're usually rectangular in setup, with the longer edge actually stretching way more than the width of the tent, creating a hallway down the middle and circular tables aligned along it. Upon stepping in, you are greeted by the bride and groom family, dressed to the nines. They're wearing their most formal suits and dresses, welcoming all of their guests. Turns out, these tents are not the actual ceremony but rather the reception, where the families dine together. They're an expensive event and so guests will often give money when they arriv to make it financially easier on the newlyweds. Even when the rain begins to pick up around 19:00 the families are still making their way into the tents. It's a momentous day for two families. Even moreso, it's a happy day despite the weather conditions.
The wedding tents are on display on the side of the road. They're not tucked away in a cement building but rather housed in these makeshift 'popup' tents, similar to those you would see in outdoor festivals. And that's what I love about this place, it's that openness in celebration on the street. There's a strong energy to the light emerging from within the tents, illuminated purple, pink, and white from the fabric of the tent. Flowers are everywhere along the entrance. One even has those 'batsignal' lights moving around, as if there were some special event happening on site (rightly so). When we drive by, we hear loud music pouring from the tent, smiling faces, and chattering among the guests. Simultaneously, it's like looking at a hollywood event where 'the stars' are arriving, and also like passing by pockets of extremely traditional culture, with a certain distance because I'm observing through the window pane. The event belies any sort of silent and dark facade the night and rain would make you believe. These are the spaces in Cambodian countryside where culture comes to life and bring warmth and light, even in a place where the electricity shuts off every so often.
The countryside rain is peaceful. When we move away from the wedding tents it's dark now for miles. The only source of light is the car headlights passing by, often kept at high beam. I'm blinded by the them but A continues to drive past without being phased. When they pass, total darkness again, the kind that swallows the earth and makes it still. Everything's still outside and the rain continues to fall. I see a herd of white cows grazing in the night.