Dining in Takam!

Cock-A-Doodle-Doo

Singing at Night

How high can you jump?

I'm thankful I'm not a dragon fly in Takam!

The next morning we rose with the sound of roosters strutting their voices. It was a very long night. I was relieved to hear them crow because it meant dawn was close to appearing!!! Marja and I trekked to the field for a bit of privacy for our morning refreshment of selves. This day's breakfast was the most difficult of all for me to stomach. It was the leftover soggy and strung together soup noodles which were hard to swallow. It was something about the texture and black dots of bugs which had accumulated in them through the night which did not settle nicely with my mind. The lemon grass dressing was all right. (F.Y.I. If you ever find yourself in a village without electricity, do not take noodles. You may have to eat them next morning! Rice is much more delicious and readily available.)

After breakfast, we along with 4 others including our little mom widow we were staying with began our work of finding the poorest of the poor to receive rice from the donation received. We began by heading out past the temple on the main road. Mid day we stopped at a hut belonging to a friend of our host to rest. We hiked out through rice field to make contacts with more families in the afternoon. Probably covered about 6 kilometers of land this day. I recorded all their names and a brief, very brief description of their stories. There are even single moms in the middle of rice fields for one reason or another. Our cultures are literally half a world apart, but so similar in other ways.

The evening closely resembled that of the previous one, except for everyone talking for 2 hours after dinner in the kitchen, we all sang! I love music. It does something to the soul no matter location, situation, or condition. When Majra and I occasionally recognized a song, we would follow their course in English. Take in the view: 15 or 20 so people gathered about a lit lantern in the open kitchen area. It's been by far one of my most sweetest experiences. I will cherish that memory forever!

It was another long night of cycling through sleep, waking up, turning in attempt to find a comfortable position on the wooden floor with a thin woven mat between myself and it, and shutting my eyes in preparation for sleep to overtake me yet again. In the morning, we freshened by the well. It was a long morning as we waited through the early afternoon for the van to arrive with the rice donation. Seventy plus flip-flops were also donated for the children.

I'll attach a few pictures of the games the children played. One game was the opposite of the limbo in which they saw who could run and jump the highest. They calculated the highest jumper by a rubber band like rope held by 2 children. The ones competing would take turns running, jumping, twisting around 180 degrees mid air, and attempting to hook the rope with a foot to the ground. The children also loved playing with nature, in particular horned beetles, birds, and dragon flies. I think they find the sounds and sticky feet of the beetles amusing. The birds they like to chase around from hut to hut as they land. So much for the birds having time to rest. My favorite of all was their interaction with dragon flies. After catching one, a child would tie a long piece of grass or rice stalk around the dragon flies' tail. He when then proceed to throw it in the air, chase after it and then pluck it by the grass attached to its tail out of the air. What fun! I could not believe it at first. So this, my friends, is how your children or brothers and sisters might play if they lived in a village submerged in rice fields in the middle of Cambodia.

Arrival in Takam Village

Monday, the 13th of October, marked a cultural submersion of Khmer life for me unlike any figment of imagination upon which I thought I would ever converge. It was on the afternoon of that sweat producing day when I found myself in the heart of Takam Village outside of Seim Reap. There I was with a Dutch friend, Marja, who I had met 3 years prior in Zambia. She had decided to take her holiday to a distant land from her own, the Netherlands. What a pleasant surprise it was to arrive to her welcome in Seim Reap! She thought it would be a grand cultural submersion for me to stay a week or 2 out in the village to better understand the culture and jump start on the language. The idea was discussed and reshaped into a 2 night, 3 day stay by both of us. It is quite easier to be courageous and adventurous when accompanied by a friend. Also a man named Sine who works at the children's home came with us and translated. He grew up in an orphanage in the same village.

Upon our arrival in the early afternoon, we had a gathering of natives about us becoming accustomed to having 2 "tom tom" ladies in their midst. Every time we heard "tom tom" we knew we were the topic of discussion. Tom means large, and large we were in every respect in comparison to the villagers. Our little mom, a me mi (widow) named Lua, who we stayed with stood about 4 feet in height and no more than 70 pounds. Some of the older boys from the children's home built her hut which sits on stilts about 6 feet off the ground. I was relieved to find out that her home would be our residence. No lie. Some of the huts would not be able to support 2 "tom toms"! It was one of my greatest concerns before arriving. I had no desire to crush any ones home to the ground. My mind pictured a new version of the 3 Little Pigs/Goldy Locks...The first hut was too short for the tom toms. The second was not long enough. The third hut was just right until it came crashing down in the middle of night when one of the tom toms turned over.

We unloaded our water and climbed up the ladder into mom's hut to deposit our backpacks. Then we were off by foot to meet the village chief. You don't come empty handed. We came with gifts of household value like bowls, spoons, towels, and soap. The chief was hacking at a banana tree trunk of which the shavings would be fed to his 2 cows. With the much needed help of Sine for translating, we shared about our desire to build a friendship with his village and the work of People for Care and Learning. We took pictures together before parting. We explored part of the village including finding chickens and walking around the central temple before heading back to our hut. The chickens along with the rice, nuts, and spices we brought were handed over to our mom. She and a few of her neighboring friends took care of cooking the food we brought (slaughtering chickens and all). While they were preparing dinner, we made our way to the washing well. The washing well is a deep dirt hole with a log embedded at ground level to keep it from eroding during use. A bucket with a bowl inside was by the well side. You simply dipped the bucket into the water. Then you use the bowl inside the bucket to pour water over yourself. Mind yourself because there are no walls posted about the well. Huts, water oxen, and children were easily visible from the washing well. You simply bathe with a shatanga or large piece of fabric secured about yourself. I did not brave the well water because I was warned about scabies before entering the village. We were refreshed just in time for dinner. We climbed into the open sided, self standing kitchen. The floor of the kitchen hut is also serves as the table. You sit Indian style within it. When facing the front, the stove area is to the left which is not different from the right side where everyone eats. The platform is a meter off the ground. Coal is burned under the stove area. Any food that drops is swept through the cracks between the limbs dropping onto the ground where chickens and dogs are able to savage the edible. Many villagers gathered around the kitchen area once we were done eating. (Hopefully I can upload some pictures with this. You won't believe me until you see it, but they eat every part of animals. The bowl of chicken included gray intestines, char grilled feet and a head! yummm!!!) From 7:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. the people just talked and laughed about us. It was comfortable to feel that they were easy with us in their presence. We hit the matt literally around 9 p.m. They sleep on thin matts weaved together by tree like strips.


To be continued...

A Half of a Day Ahead

So here I sit in a local's internet cafe' connected to the front of their home in Phnom Penh, the capital city of Cambodia. I'll be traveling 6 hours away on Saturday to Siem Reap where I'll take root for the next year of my life!

After over 24 hours (21 of them in the air) traveling west, I was relieved to set foot outside an airport. The longest strip was over the Pacific. I do believe I was racing the sun for daylight. Stars blanketed the aircraft every time I cupped my hands to the window of seat 41A. Once in Taiwan I was set a good part of a day ahead of home. The time here in Cambodia is 11 hours ahead of the east coast of the good old USA.

Overwhelmed is a perfect term to describe my feelings between the time I landed and the time I crashed 12 hours later. Besides losing 11 hours of my life in time zone difference which probably contributed more than anything else, the mere essence of being surrounded by life of unfamiliarity almost demanded a few tears. This is when I found it worthy to induce self-talk. "Why should I feel instantly at home in a place so far from my homeland, family, and friends?" I questioned. It would be insane for me to think that I would. It's all right not to fit. Meshing is a matter of time and effort. I allowed myself a few deep inhale and exhales. The life bouncing about me will become familiar in due time. Even now I hear multiple upon multiple horns of chaos in order type of driving by motorbikes. They never stop or obey traffic laws. They're in a continual push and shove into each other to get to where they're headed. It's amazing, and I mean absolutely amazing, that accidents aren't occurring every 1/100th of a second. That is no exaggeration!

So I look forward to the days of near future when I may honestly write of feeling comfortable or at least accustomed with the new sounds, smells, tastes, sights, and textures of this Cambodia.