Day 33: Friday 20 November 2009 – Another village and budding artists.

I bailed on today’s craft sewing lesson to explore one of the nearby villages with Graeme.  This was the one that shell shocked Simon on his visit to Siem Reap, so I was keen to grab the opportunity to check it out for myself. 

We headed toward Kerry’s house where Graeme showed me the proposed land for the new clinic and school, which has been purchased by some Queensland Rotarians and from the funding from Barclay’s Bank.  It seems Kemsour and Kerry are one step closer to realizing their dreams with this funding, however the approval process is extremely complicated requiring approvals from the Village Chief, the Apsara Organisation (which manages land and heritage development, “overseen” by UNESCO, and no doubt countless others along the way!)

We crossed the river toward the increasingly impoverished village.  Graeme was well known with all the villagers having wandered down there for a look and a chat on most days.  He happily called out greetings as we walked, and the kids happily walked alongside him, competing to hold his hands. 

While not nearly as desperate and shocking as the village behind the hospital, which I saw earlier in the week, this was still pretty frightening.  What was worse was that these were the homes of the kids we teach each day.  One of the little girls who has taken a shine to me in the past few weeks happily showed me her house and her mother.  I was mortified that she lived there, in a hovel half the size of the bedroom I’m sleeping in at Globalteer House. 

There was an up side to it however.  One family was successfully growing a crop of beans, which they would sell at the market and use to feed their family.  They proudly posed for this photo in front of their crop. 

Back at school we briefed our students to paint their interpretations of Australia with a view to Janet taking their artwork back to share with her students in Murray Bridge.  With the help of reference books, some of them produced some incredible work.  Check it out, it's amazing. 

Day 32: Thursday 19 November 2009 – Light-footed Cambodians.

Starting at 6:00pm each night, the public school located opposite Wat Bo Temple (near Globalteer House) converts to a dance hall, attracting hundreds of kids and adults who dance for hours.  The dance styles vary from what I can tell; disco, line dancing and contemporary.  They take it incredibly seriously, as you’ll see from these pictures.

Day 31: Wednesday 18 November 2009 – Dabbling in fashion, again ...

Last week I came up with an idea for New Hope’s sewing ladies to produce some simple, cool and modest shirts that the volunteers could buy and wear while working (because it’s practically impossible to find anything half decent around town) or for the vollies to buy as gifts for friends and family when they leave. 

I thought that by giving them a project like this, it would give them something interesting to focus on (other than making pencil cases, small bags and very ethnic clothing), that they could learn business and perhaps sales skills, and some much-needed money in the process.   If they work out, I said I’d help to sell the shirts into a boutique in Siem Reap so that the momentum and continue.  

I’d bought a ‘prototype’ of a top that Gill had taken a fancy to in Kep last weekend and shared it with the head of New Hope’s sewing “department”, Srey Own, and together we worked out a plan of how we would move ahead. 

So, today we kick-started New Hope Fashion with a visit to the local market accompanied by Teaching Assistant / Translator, Channa.

Srey Own is a qualified tailor having learned her trade in Phnom Phen.  She wasn’t exactly thrilled with the simplicity of the shirt design but I assured her it was best to start with something basic and that it was what the Westerners (with the cash) really would prefer.  I really hope so!

As you’d imagine, the range of fabrics was pretty limited, though they did have a surprising amount of pretty florals, which we’d decided to use as trim.  Srey Own went to work selecting the fabric which I financed.  They will pay me back the cost of the fabric and will pocket the rest amongst themselves (the sewing department).

By the end of the day, measured us all up for the various sizes, had cut out the majority of the shirts, and had already begun to sew the first.  Two orders have been placed already, in absolute blind faith, but for US$20 per shirt, they’re hardly investment pieces!  

Day 30: Tuesday 17 November 2009 – Exploring one of the Mondul 3 villages

Back to where I began, shell-shocked, and exhausted.

This morning Janet, Graeme and I joined Kerry for a tour of the village of squatters situated on a reserve road behind the Kantha Bopha hospitals.  The village comprised some 25 families who I can only describe as living the most squalid, filthy and unhealthy environment I could have imagined. 

This village of stilt houses and makeshift shacks have only recently become accessible to outsiders such as us, previously flooded out by the rains and typhoon fallout which happened the week before I arrived.  What’s now left is a bright green sludge or goo – a mix of putrid water and human feces that are literally deposited straight into the bonds from the back of the houses.  Kids play in these ‘ponds’, catching frogs, snails, fish and whatever which they survive on or the more enterprising ones sell to the families lining up in the sun out the front of the Khanta Bopha hospital.  

Plastic detritus, sugar cane refuse and everything else but food litter the village giving off the most foul stench in the morning sun.  Contributing to this is the dead man left to decompose in one of the houses.  He had no family and no one can afford to pay the US $50 to transport his body for cremation.    Meanwhile the bugs most likely feast on his body before moving on to infect the dozens of children who hang around playing with each other in their makeshift houses, or entertain themselves as you can see in one of the pictures of the little boy holding the syringe filled with fetid pond water.  Prior to this shot he’d been chasing his little sister around squirting her. 

Apparently this land is being re-zoned and these 25 villagers being pushed off their property some time soon.  These people are absolutely destitute and yet they still manage a smile.  Many have or have lost family members to HIV and or Tuberculosis, they can’t afford to send their children to public school, unable to find employment to fund the uniforms and books, let alone the bikes to get to school.  This excludes the vendors selling the cane sugar, snails or frogs to unsuspecting locals at the hospital or in town. 

New Hope is currently conducting a thorough investigation of these families with a view to finding them sponsorship, which will include rice, sleeping mats, mosquito nets and bikes.  From there, the mission is to get the kids into school and new accommodation for the families.  This is in addition to the 200 families that New Hope currently supports.  It’s a mammoth job.  Janet and Graeme have generously decided to sponsor on of the families from this village. 

Back at school this afternoon I seriously wonder how I ever considered complaining about the exhaustion following a fashion week.  Four and almost half weeks of teaching at New Hope is the equivalent of five back-to-back fashion weeks in Sydney, without a break! Janet, a seasoned primary teacher with ‘difficult’ children assures me that she’s never, ever worked so hard in her life.  That’s some compensation. 

Today I saw two snakes, a bag containing a sheet covered with nits (combed from one child’s hair in class by a brave teacher) and dry retched over some suspicious deposits on the floor of my classroom.  I applied first aid to a little elbow, was covered in snot, hugs, and had my face coughed into at least ten times by a very sick little girl.  I rescued a distraught toddler who had lost her mother and had no friends to play with, and laughed hysterically at the wonderful sense of humour of one of the girls.  (See the picture of her with two balls forming breasts in her dress – completely unprompted, I promise!).  I could go on and on but am exhausted even thinking about it.   Until tomorrow ...  

Day 27: Saturday 14 and Sunday 15 November 2009 – Weekend Getaway

The time had come to escape Siem Reap for what was intended to be a breath (or hopefully multiple lung-fulls) of fresh air, a cleansing dip in the ocean and general break from the intensity and poverty of life in Siem Reap. 

On Friday night, Ann, Gill and I flew to Phnom Phen, where we met up for dinner with Nicole and her boyfriend Matt who had taken the six-hour bus trip from Siem Reap, and who were in considerably worse shape than us!  Nicole had finished her volunteering stint at Angelie House and she and Matt were looking forward to a relaxing month exploring Vietnam. 

Ann, Gill and I meanwhile got off to an early start, hitting National Route 3 just after 07:00, and experience that I can only relate in terms of ‘hairiness’ to the road from Delhi to Agra.  With the exception of dancing bears and cobra, Highway 3 had practically everything else.  What it didn’t have was much bitumen!  Described in our guidebook as being the preferred route, “Paved and in good condition”, the author was clearly lying.  

With hazard lights flashing, our driver navigated us through a three-hour dust storm, through shanty villages, passing markets selling meat and you name it, exposed to the heat, dust and masses of flies, and past huge lotus ponds and pom-pom palm trees camouflaged by an inch-thick layer of Ayers Rock coloured dust.  In contrast, away from the road lay verdant rice paddies, just beginning to turn golden.  

The traffic slowed at one point to reveal a cordoned off accident scene which was swarming with police and ‘bloody thirsty’ on-lookers.  Our driver couldn’t let an opportunity like that pass without satisfying his curiosity and therefore stopped the car joining the throngs only to boisterously return to announce that an American moto rider had driven off the road and been killed.  And, “Did we want to go see?”  Tough call …

We made it to Kampot, described in our apparently increasingly credible guide book as “charming and compact … one of the nicest settings in Cambodia, situated on the north bank of the Teuk Chhou”.  Compact, definitely.  We stayed there for a toilet break, a stroll to photograph some of the desolate colonial Chinese-influenced shop houses, and to get tips on our next port of call, Kep.  Try as we did, we couldn’t locate somewhere to buy the world-famous Kampot pepper that we’d all heard about. 

Half an hour later we arrived in Kep, a tiny seaside resort dotted with the gutted shells of colonial villas, more tragic evidence of the Khmer Rouge’s wanton lust for destruction.   Many of these are now home to squatters, including some policemen and their families who actually charge tourists to inspect.   It was really quite eerie to imagine these homes during their hey day, before the American’s began bombing the south coast of Cambodia and then the absolute wipe out by the Khmer Rouge.

Our time in Kep was delightful; a mix of great seafood, just a few sunset cocktails at the sailing club, and plenty of relaxation and laughs.  Good therapy to prepare us for another week.  

Day 26: Friday 13 November 2009 – Rice Drop at New Hope

Once a month the Mondal 3 villagers supported by New Hope descend on the school to receive their monthly allocation of rice, soy sauce and fish sauce. To qualify, they must first have been registered to determine their level of their family’s needs and are given a photo ID that they literally treasure, and must present and be recorded in return for their monthly allocation.

The amount of rice allocated ranges from 50kg to 25kg bags, the larger amounts provided to independently sponsored families. Some of the sponsored families also receive a small cash allocation for the month, ranging from US$1 to $10, also dependant on their sponsorship status.


I arrived at school early on the day of the rice drop and helped set it all up, removing all the desks from one of the classrooms for the women to sit at, and also to free up the room for the kids to play in. We then put out the grass mats for the women and babies to sit on while waiting for their turn. You’ll see from the pictures that ‘my’ classroom had been converted to the rice holding area. (I just hope that the smell of the fish sauce disappears by Monday!).

The day was even more humid and unbearable than usual, particularly after lugging desks. (This will explain my disgusting ‘sweaty Betty’ look!). The heavens opened, just as the poor people lined up at the front gate. They had to wait patiently in the rain while their ID was checked before moving under cover.

You’ll see from the pictures that the age of the villagers ranges significantly. I was surprised to see so many elderly women, many caring for their grandchildren. My guess is that their daughters have died or are working as karaoke girls, and therefore the care of the grandchildren has been left to the grandmothers.

See this picture of the mother with the brand new baby? It’s the Cambodian’s belief that new mothers must wear a woolen hat or beanie for the first three months of their child’s life to keep their breast milk warm. This poor woman must have been expiring!

I felt quite uncomfortable photographing this scene of incredible poverty.  It must be humiliating for these people to turn up each month to receive handouts, dependent on the charity of others, yet they were so gracious and friendly.  Many of the mothers got a real kick out of having their children photographed, pushing them toward me, proud I suppose that I thought they were worthy and beautiful enough to be photographed.  This is really heartbreaking stuff.