October 31, 2006

Hi folks!

Bought a car. Yep, we bought a car. I wanted a motorcycle, because it is so easy to get around on a motorcycle. You zip here and zip there. But that is seen precisely as the problem–you can zip right into something. The car we bought is an old Corolla, older than the Corolla that we used to have in Virginia. The air conditioner works, which is important here. The motor runs, which is always helpful. The tires are good. Four of the five seatbelts work. We could even drive to Phnom Penh if we wanted to, but then we would have to drive in Phnom Penh, which is much worse than driving here. I can’t imagine driving in Phnom Penh; it would be suicidal. Every traffic law in the world, including the three on the books in Cambodia, are willfully ignored in Phnom Penh. The three laws in Cambodia are 1) stop when asked to by signs or lights; 2) drive on your own side of the road, Dummy; and 3) you get no points for hitting grandmothers.

I will still be riding motorcycles, or motos, as we call them, from time to time. They are Hondas that the Capacity Building Program bought used. That’s how we tend to get out in the country, given the state of the roads here, and the Program needs to get to the health centers and villages. Moreover, as we add two new health centers to work with each year, we are reaching farther out in the province. Last week, the two dramatic performances I mentioned in the last posting were delivered some 50 or 55 kilometers from home. Even four-wheel drive vehicles can’t go where motos can go, or if they can, they do it more slowly. For that matter, four-wheel drive vehicles on some of the country roads around here get passed by bicycles, which even village matrons can pedal quietly around deep potholes without missing a beat.

To get to the first day's performance, I rode on the back of a moto, holding on for dear life. There’s something more scary about sitting on the back, having no control, being largely unable to see around the driver, than about driving your own moto. So for two hours I gripped the bars underneath the seat thinking that would protect me. Even if we didn’t hit anything, the bumps throw you up in the air and you wonder where the moto will be when you come down. The second day, I rode out in a small bus and rode back in the four-wheel drive. The bus is not a normal part of our vehicular repertoire and the four-wheel drive is not always available, so I have been told to expect to drive a moto in the future when we go out to the villages.

This coming Wednesday I will drive to work for the first time in our new car. Tomorrow, Monday, is a holiday. Actually today, Sunday, is the holiday; it’s the anniversary of the present king’s accession to the throne (King Sihamoni). But the holiday is observed tomorrow. Tuesday is also a holiday. It is the birthday of the previous king, King Sihanouk. So on Wednesday I will drive to work. My guess is that by fighting my way skillfully through traffic I will get there in six or seven minutes. If I were going to the Angkor Hospital for Children, it would take only five minutes. But I go over to the Wat Damnak area now–you all know it: cross the Siem Reap River, take a right past Wat Damnak, turn left down a dirt road to what we call the "White House." That’s where the Capacity Building Program works. We don’t spend our money on frills.

I am actually writing this posting before sending the previous posting, which I hope to send to you tomorrow morning if possible. (Yes, I’ll be working on a holiday.) If I manage to do that, those of you who live in America will receive it today, Sunday. That’s why we will outlive you, having gone west to get east. We do things before you even think of them. We are always in the vanguard. If you remember, we discussed this issue in an earlier posting.

I wanted to get this new posting going so that I can send you some pictures of the performances that I have been telling you about. The two messages of this performance were tuberculosis and childhood vaccinations. We limit the messages to two at a time because it is easier to remember only two. (I say "we" limit, but of course I don’t limit anything. I just work here, trying to help them with administrative stuff. All these decisions are made by people who have experience in these kinds of things. If I were the audience, they would have to limit the message to one, or perhaps not even bother.)

These two performances were both given in the morning, which meant that most adults were working in the fields and couldn’t come, so our audience consisted mostly of rapt children. Putting shows on in the evening can be complicated, though, both for the audience and for us, but we want to try it soon.

The first show was delivered from a concrete stage in the middle of a field across the road from a school. The only shade came from the roof over the stage and from a large tree about thirty meters from the stage and to the right. The audience stayed in the shade. Fortunately, the tree shade fell to the left, bringing them roughly in front of the stage rather than farther to the right, where they would have stayed relatively cool but missed the show. As the sun moved over the horizon during the course of the morning, the shade moved, and so did the people. Every time I looked, the audience had shifted to cover a different patch of ground. The second performance took place in a large meeting hall with a roof overhead in a pagoda. This allowed the entire audience to sit under the roof and watch the performance.

The performances include skits that give messages and other skits that are just funny. The performance started with the voice of a giant coming from backstage. It was a low pitched, guttural voice–loud, commanding. He came frontstage, continuing to talk in this low growl.


Note the shoes and the microphone. All the actors carried a wireless microphone, but only the giant wore athletic shoes. I don’t know if that was deliberate or if that’s just how he felt comfortable. The story line in this skit, I was told, was that a mere germ, so small that you can’t see it, can’t possibly bring down a giant, but of course this giant started getting a cough. The writing and symbol behind him on the curtain announce that the show is presented by the Capacity Building Program.

The performance was accompanied by three musicians, one on a single-stringed instrument played with a bow, one on drums, and one on a kind of xylophone.



The man with the stringed instrument, whom I will call the fiddler, played during most of the performance; the drums and xylophone joined in during transitions between skits. I took another picture of the fiddler by himself and noticed his foot and the television that sat facing the players, not facing the audience.


What was the TV for? Well, later they played karaoke on the TV. The audience couldn't see the TV but they could hear the music. An actor could see the TV and sing the words that appeared at the bottom of the screen. All the power for the sound system and the TV was supplied by a generator that we brought along.

I figured the fiddler was likely to have another foot and wondered where it was. I went around to his side of the stage and got a peek between the TV next to him and the curtain and rail behind him. Here it is:

Notice the rapt audience:

By the way, I want to develop within you a Pavlovian response to pictures of children such as these, so that when you see pictures of Cambodian children you can’t help but think must...write...check, and you will grab your checkbook and write a check to FWAB. With each check, you help fund both the Angkor Hospital for Children and the Capacity Building and Health Education Program. How can you beat that? (Yes, Uncle Gaylord, in the U.S. you get a tax deduction.) For more information, just click here:

http://www.fwab.org/Pages/donations.htm

Another skit dealt with childhood immunizations and why they are critical to the child’s health. Here are two young women carrying their babies discussing the recommended schedule of vaccinations and pointing out that vaccinations are available at the health center.

Here is another skit that takes place at the health center between the nurse and several patients.

There were silly skits:

There was poignant drama:

There was song:

One of the last skits was a boxing match:

The rest of the pictures may gross some of you out. You may decide when you get to the end of this paragraph that you don’t want to see them. Near the end of the first performance, some of the actors who had no more roles to play started cooking lunch for the whole group. I had earlier seen a large frog that someone had captured. They tied a long ribbon around the frog’s leg so he could hop around but couldn’t escape. I had not, however, seen a plastic bag full of live frogs, shown in the first picture here. The man standing on the left is taking out one frog after another and cutting off the head against a tree (second picture) with a machete. The head falls to the ground. (This is not shown clearly in the picture.) He throws the body into the pot of now bloody water (third picture), from which the boy and the two men take them out and pull off their skin, which is left on the ground. (Isn’t it nice to see a young boy learning a trade?) Then they break up the pieces of frog by hand (fourth picture) and place them in the large cooking pot (last picture), to which oil, greens, salt and other condiments are added to cook them. Gross? Think about how you get your chickens pieces or your sausage. The large captive frog escaped the pot. I don’t know whether he escaped from captivity.

Gotta go. It’s lunch time.

October 30, 2006

Dear Readers,

We’re back. Back on line and back in Cambodia. These blog postings don’t come every day, so savor them when you get them.

Got out into the villages again. Best part of this job. We went to see a little drama troupe practice for an upcoming production. I'm told that the members of the troupe are mostly from Kampong Thom Province. They earn money by putting on shows. When they do a show for the Capacity Building and Health Education Program, they include messages about a couple of health issues, in this case TB and vaccinations. The Program has a number of other messages to tell, for example malaria, HIV/AIDS, dengue fever, prenatal care, but each performance is limited to two so as not to confuse people with too many messages. The performances are accompanied by three musicians, one who plays a stringed instrument throughout the show, and two others on drum and xylophone who contribute during transitions from one skit to the next.

Villagers love to watch dramatic performances and they remember what they hear in a dramatic performance much more than they remember what they hear in a lecture. Sounds like the rest of us, doesn’t it. So a group of three talk about tuberculosis: one of them is coughing and the other two tell him what it may indicate and suggest strongly that he go visit the local health center to get it checked out. It’s not as dry as that: a little song and a little dance and a little slapstick are included in the skit. Or they discuss the importance of getting a child vaccinated so as to provide immunity against a variety of diseases. Skits with messages are interspersed with skits that are just fun, for example a comic boxing match.

When we saw them, they were practicing under a large house in a village. You will remember that Khmer houses are traditionally built on stilts so as to leave room underneath for live dramatic performances. A rather small crowd of people watched, mostly children. Several of my colleagues from the Program offered support and suggestions.

This performance will be presented twice in the next two days at different locations convenient to as many villages as possible. In addition to passing on important health messages, it encourages villagers to use the health centers that the government has established all over the country. Health centers have not been particularly visible in the past, nor have they been well managed or adequately staffed with trained nurses. So the Program is also working to upgrade the professionalism of the health centers to ensure that it is staffed from nine to five, as promised, that nurses are trained, that it is equipped with appropriate medicines and vaccines, that it has a working well and clean drinking water, that it has a model vegetable garden, and that it has clean sanitary facilities. At the same time, the Program trains the village health volunteers so that they can be effective front-line health workers providing advice and direction to the villagers.

Today’s visit was unexpected, so I didn’t have my camera. When I went to work, I thought I would be reviewing records of Program expenditures all day. Fun, fun, fun! I hope to be able to take some pictures at the live performances so that you can see what this is all about. There are a few pictures below on another subject, however, for those of you who like multi-media presentations.

Where are we back in Cambodia from, you may ask. We went to Vietnam. Why did we go? Because I (Jim) had had two consecutive 30-day, single-entry visas and had to leave. Foreigners have to work their way through a complicated set of steps to get a long-term multiple-entry visa. One requirement is to acquire a written request from the Minister of Foreign Affairs himself that asks the immigration officials at the border to issue a three-month single-entry business (not tourist) visa upon my reentry. I have now acquired that. The final step, which the Angkor Hospital for Children is doing for me (they’ve been very helpful through all this), is to get a six-month multiple-entry visa, which will need to be renewed every six months but with no requirement to leave the country again in order to do so.

The reason we went to Vietnam rather than someplace else is that we were able to book a five-day tour with a travel agent here in Siem Reap that took us to Ho Chi Minh City and Dalat. Simply because of the airfare, flying to Bangkok would have been much more expensive, and we have seen Bangkok often already.

Part of the excitement for me, at least, was making a land crossing rather than flying. Our little bus (a Ford) comfortably carried eight of us plus a driver and a guide to the border, going through territory that was occupied at various times in the 1960s and 1970s by the Viet Cong, the North Vietnamese, the South Vietnamese army, the Americans, the Khmer Rouge, and always the long-suffering Khmer people who lived and farmed there and dodged bullets and bombs (unsuccessfully for hundreds of thousands of them) for years.

Vehicles weren’t allowed to cross the border, so we unloaded the bus and took our luggage through Cambodian customs, then shlepped it about two hundred yards to Vietnamese customs and immigration officials, then got on another bus with another guide and another driver to continue into Vietnam. This guide was a Khmer Kraum, or a southern Khmer, which is to say a Khmer from the Mekong Delta, which was Khmer territory before the Vietnamese swept south. He spoke both Khmer and Vietnamese.

We didn’t see Ho Chi Minh City in any organized way, but it appeared to be a very large, sprawling, crowded, noisy, polluted place, which is not so different from other major cities in this part of the world. I remember it from 1970 as less crowded and less noisy and full of barbed wire and Americans, but still a graceful and beautiful place, characterized by French colonial architecture, sidewalk cafes, and women riding Vespas with their ao dai fluttering behind in the wind. The ao dai is gone, unfortunately, except for sales girls in the more expensive shops and school girls in some schools. Clothing of choice for women is pretty much the same there now as anywhere: jeans and blouses predominate.

People getting married, however, seem to dress alike in much of the world. Here are young newlyweds getting their picture taken by a professional (with me horning in) in a public park in Ho Chi Minh City that would have been a nice park in any American city.

We went to a wonderful children’s park in Ho Chi Minh City too, with a lake, a zoo with crocodiles and snakes and monkeys, and an amusement park with full-scale rides including a roller coaster and a ferris wheel (see picture). I thought it was wonderful that the city put money into that park to entertain the children. It is a luxury that you don’t see in many poor countries.

And here are two women in the park hoping to be rescued from the dragons. They are sisters from Cambodia, and part of our tour group.

Dalat is a much different place. It is nearly a mile high in elevation, surrounded by mountains, a small lake at its center, full of French colonial architecture that is clean and well-maintained. It has long been a resort, a place to get away, relax, unwind. It is a place for honeymooners, whom you see strolling by the lake shore hand in hand. We walked around one evening after dinner, stopped for coffee at a café, watched students from two universities waving pom poms and singing cheers (cynical American students would find that amusing), made our way through night markets selling food, souvenirs, warm clothing. It was cool, maybe in the upper sixties. I was wearing a T-shirt, but Vietnamese were more likely to have wrapped themselves warmly in parkas and gloves and scarves. LL Bean (another plug!) could make money with a store in Dalat. Alas, no ao dai here either.

Outside town, you can ride a gondola, climb a mountain, visit a garden, stop at a small shop for tea, buy a bottle of liquor with a cobra and a scorpion inside for potency, ride a sled on a track down a steep hill where you have to do the braking because there is nothing else to stop you. We visited a place where the only activity seemed to be trying to make a wooden tabletop swivel without actually touching it. Nobody accomplished that, but it didn’t seem to matter. Dalat is the most charming town I have seen anywhere in Southeast Asia, though I may still find one better.
Our guide hired a photographer for half a day to take pictures of us. I don’t think he took a single picture of me, which was perfectly fine. Instead, he seemed to want to take pictures of the women in our group. I can’t blame him for that. The women will buy his pictures. He was good at posing his models and I stood behind him to get a picture of this pose by one of the two sisters surrounded by dragons in the picture above.

The next one shows the mountains around Dalat. It has just rained, leaving low clouds in the valleys.

This is a picture of a vegetable garden next to a pond and a shack, possibly someone’s house, taken from the gondola in the mountains above Dalat as we passed over. The Vietnamese have cultivated nearly every piece of land available. They number about 84 million people, compared to Cambodia’s 14 million or so.

Finally, at least for this part of today’s lecture, I took a picture of this woman at a waterfall just below the city of Dalat when we were on our way back to Ho Chi Minh City. I thought she was Vietnamese, but it turned out that she was Khmer too, part of another Khmer tour group following the same schedule we were following.

When we returned to Ho Chi Minh City (I still want to call it "Saigon"), one among our group suggested that we stop at a restaurant he knew where the food was particularly good, a place called "quan an ngon," according to their business card. This restaurant has no kitchen and prepares no food. All the items on their menu are made by carefully selected contract chefs scattered around the first floor who do their cooking in full view of the clientele. Instead of looking at the menu, you can walk around and decide what to eat based on what you see them making. It had been raining (it rained about three times a day in Vietnam when we were there) and the water was dripping from tarpaulins that sheltered the open center of the restaurant, keeping the tile walkways wet and glistening. The waiters were solicitous and polite, but didn’t seem to speak any English, much less Khmer, so our guide was more than helpful. We had thought to have just a snack, but started to order real food and ended up having what looked very much like a full dinner. Ten people. One or two dishes each, plus cold drinks.

We left to go straight to our scheduled dinner, which was on a boat on the Saigon River. (Apparently they retained the name Saigon for the river.) We ate very little there but enjoyed the show, which consisted mostly old people (I'm not one of them!) singing and dancing with a very versatile band backing them up. Our guide, who is young, took the stage to sing a Cambodian love song (they always seem to be about unrequited love) and the band knew the music to that too. After dinner, the boat pulled away from the dock and they gave us a little trip up and down the river.

On the way back to Phnom Penh the next day, we had to wait for a ferry to carry us across a river. I took this picture of a woman waiting in the cab of a truck next to us.

Finally, at least in terms of visual aids in this installment, this picture tells you where those big red aromatic Christmas candles come from. Yes, Vietnam. No, wait! Those aren’t candles. Those are tiny shrimp being sold in the Ho Chi Minh City market. Sorry for the mistake. My bad.


Our best to all of you.
Viriyane and Jim

October 4, 2006

Dear Friends,

We have a lot to talk about today, so put on a pot of coffee, settle comfortably in an easy chair (not a hammock, because we don’t want you falling asleep), and take it all in. I want you to learn as much as possible about Friends Without a Border and Cambodia.

The Angkor Hospital for Children, as you know, serves children in Siem Reap Province, or for that matter any child who comes from anyplace for help. The problem is that many children can’t come here. They live in distant or remote areas. They have no transportation. They have no money to pay anyone to provide transportation. They may not have heard about the hospital. Worse, their parents may not know what is happening to the child or that it can be treated successfully with modern medicine. But the hospital can’t easily be replicated in other locations to make it more accessible to these children.

So in May, 2001, Friends Without A Border initiated a second Project (after the hospital) called the Capacity Building and Heath Education Program (CBHEP). The idea is to build the capacity and improve the quality of community health services throughout the province (Capacity Building) and to improve health promotion practices among the population of the province (Health Education).

Under government mandates, the province is divided into 60 health center catchment areas. Each one contains a health center staffed by nurses who can provide basic treatment and refer more difficult cases to referral hospitals, of which there are only three in a province with nearly 900,000 people. Each village is mandated to have at least two village health volunteers who work with the people to introduce good health practices.

The program which FWAB has undertaken is designed to raise the level of service provided in health centers, to train the village health volunteers, and to integrate the two with each other and with the operational health districts that oversee the health centers. The goal, as noted, is to upgrade health services throughout the province and to increase public awareness of good health practices.

This is a small program with limited funding. The program takes two new health centers each year into a four-year program, so at that rate it will take 30 years to work with all the currently existing health centers. That is not a criticism. Resources are limited.

So where do I fit in? I am now working in administration for the Capacity Building program: I draw up plans, write reports, attend meetings. Sounds like a job. I just got started with this program last week and have lots to learn. Most of the time I will be in the office. The really fun thing I get to do, though, is travel to health centers and villages. It is heaven getting out there! Of course, I know I don’t have to live there, but it is especially beautiful at this time of year.

I have made three trips so far accompanying the head of the program. The first was in a large, old land rover to a health center and a village, the second was on the back of an old motorcycle to a village school. (The program buys only used vehicles.) Both trips were difficult. One village was accessible not by a road but only by an ungraded bullock cart track. The land rover would have been too wide for the track. The third trip was in the land rover again.

This is still the rainy season. It had rained hard the night before we went out on a motorcycle and water was everywhere–in the rice paddies, filling the potholes, coursing across the trail. Whether mud or water, unpaved roads are a uniform reddish brown color, and the road is treacherous. You can slide down the bank into the rice paddies; you can slip down the sides of potholes; you can slide even on level ground. We came upon a pothole that filled the entire road, leaving no way to go around unless we wanted to drive into the wet paddy on one side or the other. We drove straight into the pothole, not knowing how deep it was. At the bottom, the sparkplug got wet and the engine stopped. I got off the motorcycle and found myself standing in muddy water up to my knees. Fortunately we got the spark plug working and we were on our way, until we started spinning and put our feet down to keep from falling over completely. My already wet shoe filled with oozing reddish-brown mud, making a mold around my foot.

Our destination was a school where villagers had gathered to hear about clean drinking water. The program cooperates with Rotary International to install Bio-sand water filters that are cheap, small enough for a single household, and provide clean water instantly just by dumping in a bucket of any water the villager can find, even a bucket of canal water where the water buffalo have been wallowing. They also require almost no maintenance. The only difficult thing about them is that they have to be built carefully (which the program is doing) and the sand and gravel have to be sifted properly so that they will filter the water correctly.

Since I didn’t do any of the talking at this school, I wandered around looking for things to photograph. I did this for YOU, because I know you don’t even read my text, you just look at the photos.

Here is one of a girl riding her bicycle along a path behind the school with rice paddies as far as you can see. (This has nothing to do with the program; I just like the picture.) Note the barbed wire. It forms a fence around the school yard. I asked why they use barbed wire and was told it was to keep out cows.



Whenever such a meeting is held with adults, the children are curious and stand outside at the windows to watch and listen. Here are two of those kids, a boy and a girl. They were a little small to see over the window sill, so they found themselves in front of my camera instead. How can you not love these children! (Please write a check to FWAB today!)

Next is what I think is probably a better than typical house in a village. The woman in blue and orange is a village health volunteer. She held a meeting in the open space in front of this house three days before, when the ground was drier and people could sit down on mats to listen.

Here is a picture of a health center out in the countryside, just so you get a feel for what they look like. A typical health center will have from three to nine staff, all trained nurses and midwives. They will have several rooms for private care and one or two for giving birth.

Behind this health center I found an old ambulance now in retirement, ignored and unused, much like me.

On another subject, a fifteen-day holiday nearly slipped by without waking me from my hammock. I had never heard of Pchum Ben before. Pchum Ben, you say? Fifteen-day holiday?

My usual sources (Hearsay and Innuendo) were not very fruitful, so I went to the internet to learn more. Someone named Vathany Say had actually done research about Pchum Ben. I will quote her in full. It tells you a lot about Khmer people and their beliefs. It isn’t too long.

"Cambodians believe that although most living creatures are reincarnated at death, some souls, due to bad karma, are not reincarnated but rather remain trapped in the spirit world. Each year, for fifteen days, these souls are released from the spirit world to search for their living relatives, meditate and repent. The fifteen-day observance of Prachum Benda, or Ancestors' Day, is a time for living relatives to remember their ancestors and offer food to those
unfortunate enough to have become trapped in the spirit world. Furthermore, it is an important opportunity for living relatives to meditate and pray to help reduce the bad karma of their ancestors, thus enabling the ancestors to become reincarnated and leave the torment and misery of the spirit world.

"Prachum Benda, better known colloquially as Pchum Ben, may be translated as "gathering together to make offerings" (prachum meaning "gathering together" and benda meaning "offering"). The observance usually begins in mid-September and lasts an entire lunar cycle, constituting the fifteen days that ancestral spirits are given to visit their living relatives. In the year 2003, the specific dates for its commencement and conclusion are September 11th and September 25th, respectively.

"Pchum Ben is the fifteenth and final day of the observance and consists of a large gathering of laity for festivities at the local Buddhist temple. Each day leading up to the fifteenth, however, is also important and special. Different families host services at the temple on each of the fourteen days prior to the final celebration. The days leading up to Pchum Ben are known as Kann Ben (kann meaning "hosting or holding") and are numbered one through fourteen accordingly.

"Prior to the day a family or families are scheduled to host a Kann Ben, relatives and close family friends will go to the temple to make preparations. During the preparations, urns of ancestors, traditionally kept on temple grounds, are polished and brought to the viheara (the main chanting room). Also, the names of ancestors are recorded onto an invitation list. This is important because spirits cannot receive offerings unless they are first invited to do so by living relatives. In the evening, the host family and other participants will join the monks in the viheara for meditation and chanting. The monks will then pass on the Buddha's teachings, as well as offer blessings and guidance to those present.

"Before sunrise on the morning of the Kann Ben, special food is prepared for the ancestral spirits to enjoy. Favorite dishes of various flavors and colors are offered. They range from the simple and traditional nom ansom (sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves with assorted fillings) to the more elaborate and rich amok (steamed fish fillet marinated in a complex mix of spices and herbs). As a gesture of kindness, the hosts also prepare bai ben (steamed sticky rice mixed with sesame seeds and then formed into balls) to be thrown into shaded areas about the temple grounds. This mixture is an offering to the hungry souls who have been forgotten or no longer have living relatives to make them offerings.

"Before noon on Kann Ben, candles and incense are lit and the various dishes are offered to the monks. The prepared list of names is then recited and burned. The reading and burning of the list is a ritual performed to alert and direct the wandering souls to the location of their families. It is an invitation for the ancestral spirits to join their living relatives as they commemorate life. After consuming the proffered meal, the monks continue to chant blessings, sprinkling (or showering) holy water onto the families and their visiting ancestral spirits. The Kann Ben is a time of remembrance and an opportunity to accumulate good karma on behalf of one's ancestors.

"The rituals of Kann Ben continue for fourteen days. On the fifteenth day, the traditionally observed Pchum Ben, families in the local area gather to perform the same ritual of ancestral remembrance and offer an immense communal feast. This day is especially important because if any ancestors are unfortunate enough to have become Priad spirits, it is the only day that they may receive offerings of food and benefit from the good karma earned by their relatives. Priads are the most miserable of all souls due to their exceptional bad karma. Unlike other spirits, Priads fear light and can only receive prayers, food and be reunited with their living relatives during the darkest day of this lunar cycle, the day of Pchum Ben.

"Participating in the Pchum Ben, whether as a host or participant, is a very important aspect of Cambodian culture. It is a time of reunion and commemoration. It is a time to express love and appreciation for one's ancestors. By offering food and good karma to those possibly trapped in the spirit world, living relatives help assuage their misery and guide them back into the cycle of reincarnation. After the ancestors are reincarnated, they have the opportunity to accumulate good karma on their own and look forward to attaining a peaceful inner spirit, which is the best blessing a living relative can wish for their ancestors."

My direct experience with Pchum Ben was limited to the fifteenth day, although I started hearing about people going to the pagoda to observe Pchum Ben for days before that. We joined friends on the fifteenth day to take food that they had prepared to the pagoda. They had four containers of food, and it turned out that they went to four different pagodas, presenting one container to a monk at each pagoda. (Monks were stationed at key points to receive the food and chant blessings for the donor.) While the monk chanted, the food was spirited away and the empty container was returned. This happened so fast and with such stealth that I didn’t see it happen at all even though I was watching for it by the time we got to the third and fourth pagodas. (You can see how seriously I was listening to the blessing.)

The pagodas were crowded and noisy. People bustled about, met old friends, presented food, received the blessings of the monks. The ubiquitous loudspeakers at these events drowned out most everything else: always some guy talking with the volume turned all the way up. The monks seem to look forward to Pchum Ben because they eat very well for fifteen days and receive new clothing and money to buy the few things they can own.

The holiday officially covers only the last four days, when all government offices, schools, shops and businesses are closed. Even Angkor Hospital for Children was closed except for emergencies. Fortunately, restaurants largely remained open.

Why did we go to four pagodas? Well, everyone seems to have a different take on these events, and our friend’s mother believes that the spirits of her ancestors may come to only one pagoda, so in order not to leave them without food, it is best to take food to each pagoda which they might choose to visit. Consequently, we spent most of that morning driving from one pagoda to the next.

The first picture was taken at our friend’s house. It shows sticky rice with beans in banana leaves (nom ansom) roasting over a fire. They have already been steamed; the roasting dries out the excess water and allows them to be stored longer. The heat is directly underneath, but they increased its intensity by placing the metal signboard in front and leaning a sheet of corrugated tin over the top. The stuff roasted for hours. It was very good, by the way. The bamboo table did not burn as I thought it would.

The next picture is of an open market next to the West Baray, a man-made lake built in the time of Angkor. This woman is barbequing fish, chicken, and frogs. Most of what you see is already cooked and is simply being kept warm near the heat. We bought some of each to have for lunch. (It was hardly worth it for the frogs, they had so little meat.) You will notice, if you look closely, that hammocks hang in the background. Behind each of these vendors is a long raised platform where people can sit and have lunch and take a nap in a hammock if they wish.

The last picture shows the platforms and the hammocks more clearly. It was still early, so the platforms are largely unoccupied. There are a couple of people sleeping in the background on the left. A morning nap!

Our best to all of you.