Living in the riel world

Our friend Becky's parents, who live and work with the poor in Calcutta, describe it as learning to live in parallel universes when they talk about the two worlds they slide in and out of.One minute in a slum, next minute in Pizza Hut.

We talk about living in the riel world and the dollar world. The riel being Cambodia's official currency and the working currency for the majority of Cambodians, the dollar being the working currency of tourists and the rich.

To us, increasingly the riel world helps us to understand how the real world works - that it is what is normal for the vast majority of people worldwide and throughout history. Yet it is a world we only partially enter. The dollar world is what we know yet it seems ever more sur-real and something we will never leave.

It seems that finding peace in living where worlds collide is to accept that both worlds are sur-real or sub-real, that indeed reality is where there contradictions and tensions meet.

We don't all live in a global economy or a global village that is ridiculous from where we are renting and unimaginable to someone immersed in the riel world. The dollar world (which is what the global economy refers to) is another world. People immersed in one world or another rarely meet and even less like to be know each other at a personal level and there are only a few people who live the ghostly realm imbetween the two worlds.

We are deeply grateful for the opportunity we have to slide between worlds and get a different perspective on reality courtesy of the friendliness of our neighbours in the riel world and the generosity of our supporters in the dollar world.

We can say is that it is a wonderful thing when the two worlds can meet, get to know each other and kiss in familia love. We can also see that this is not the norm and that both worlds are impoverished when the interaction is expolitative or without insight into how the Others really live. Neither option is without cost, yet the price to paid is very different.

I am reminded as I write this of Gandhi's quote that it costs a lot of people a lot of money to keep him in poverty. I am no longer sure what he meant by this......

Modern Buddhist Cathedrals

There is a proliferation of Wats (Buddhist pagodas cum monasteries) in Cambodia. Many were destroyed during the reign of the Khmer Rouge. The Khmer Rouge tried to eradicate Buddhism, all it achieved in doing is changing it.

Many of the Wats have been rebuild and new ones added by and large with money from exiled Khmers in America, France and Australia, mostly from America, from California. Indeed, the Wats along with their pictures of Buddhas life, praying figures and Garudas and other myhtic beasts are covered in credits to so and so from USA giving $xx. Monks are no longer so depend on their alms rounds in the local community as money pours in from overseas.

Why all this money? We are not exactly sure but part of it seems to be secure the exiles return to the land of their ancestors when they die, part of it seems a way to put money back into the country without getting embroiled in family squabbles and jealousies, and there are probably a host of other reasons.

Unfortunately, it seems that the local Wats and monks are becoming less connected to their local community as a result of their new found wealth and patrons. A path that the church in the west went down some time ago. What is it about stones, bricks and mortar, intricate designs and gargoylesque figures that so appeal to the religious?

Often these graphic displays of merit-making sit alongside people on the edge of existence.One wonders what could be done if the money was channelled into health or education or community infrastructure or debt cancellation. But, of course, that would be a lot more difficult with no guarantee of credit or success.....

N.B. Whilst the context is somewhat different in the west I am of much the same opinion about the majority of church buildings - old or new, so, please, understand this is not a cheap pop at Buddhism. Just articulating grief at the way many of us religious haves tend to spend our money.

Back to Blighty

We are all booked to fly to Bangkok on April 5th to attend the Servants to Asias Urban Poor's Forum at Pattaya before flying back to England, arriving at Heathrow at 06.25 on the 12th of April. Not far away now.

In the meantime, we have a good friend, Becky, coming to stay for two weeks as of tomorrow, then we will head up to Ratanakiri again for a couple of weeks before returning to our wooden house in Battambang to pack up and say good bye to everyone here. We will put all our belongings in storage here.

Our plans for being in Blighty are unconfirmed as of yet but we can say we will be around longer than our original provision plan of two to three months. This means we will try to have a bit more of a base than just touring around. We hope to be able to set up base in Yate (Catherine's hometown) and then be able to travel around to see people from there. We will let you know when things are clearer, as you can imaginge there are a lot of arrangements to be made.

Adventure Anniversary

Last sunday made it a year since we arrived in Bodge. Catherine and I asked ourselves what gave us most life about being here and what times were most special to us. This is a sample of our responses:

Watching Eden and Forrest grow and flourish, particular moments including when Forrest did something new that he was really proud of (e.g. triking back from friends in the country and potty learning) and seeing Eden exploring and embracing his surroundings (especially one long hug and kiss of Ausman, a six year old friend, much to Ausman's shock and following delight).

Watching Catherine pottering around the neighbourhood and local garden in the wat with the boys in their hats and colourful clothes.

Catherine baking bonanza of bread and ham and potatoes at Christmas.

Our relationship and growing friendship with our helper Torika, especially seeing her work through on difficult circumsatnces outside of work and playing with Forrest.

Those times of feeling at ease sitting on a table bed under a neighbours house passing the time of day.

The difficult but rewarding experience of learning about ourselves and being challenged about what our priorities really are in life, just by being here.

Party in the Phuum

Last saturday our neighbours had a party as the grandmother was going to visit relatives in Australia for three months. We were invited after the boys were already in bed so only Tim could go, which was a shame, but he had agreat time. Khmer parties can be very formal affairs but not this one. It was just extended family and immediate neighbours and after the mandatory chicken curry was consumed round circular plastic tables it was time to dance.

In addition to the two tables was a karaoke machine with attended public address system speakers set up in a clearing between two houses surrounded by trees and open to the stars. A chair was set in the middle of the clearing as the centre point of the dance. Dancing here, like life, is circular, slow and rhythmic with occasional up beat crescendos, and of course it includes everyone from young to old all. The songs were a fusion of traditional folk music with dance base beats, we really enjoy it (normally from a distance, overhearing other peoples parties across the village).

The only bit Tim was not to keen on was the downing of numerous glasses of beer with ice in it. Neither downing beer nor ice in beer are really his thing anymore (not that ice in beer ever was....). Tim left at about eleven when the granny went to bed, it went on till two. We would like to have a party like this when we leave at the end of march but maybe finish a little earlier!

Chheoung

Our first language helper, Srey Laek, suddenly and unannounced left for America. It is not uncommon here. This gave us the opportunity to reassess our language learning. After a break we restarted with a different language helper each, each having two mornings a week.

Tim's language helper is called Chheoung. We had heard of him but not met him till our friend Gordon from Ratanakiri came to visit. Chheoung and his family used to live and work in Ratanakiri before he got arthritis, malaria and respiratory trouble. They then returned to their family village just outside Battambang town. He now is a farmer and pastor (in his free time) of the village church. He has also helped other foreigners learn Khmer conversation using a book with the same phonetic system that we were already using.

Chheoung is like Gordon in many ways, a good listener who is in no rush. He speaks Khmer slowly and clearly and does not tire of repeating what he has siad or saying it again more simply. He quite laid back and informal as well as being interested in innovative agricultural experiments. He is the kind of bridge person and friend that Tim has been looking for all year, which is very encouraging. His family is very sweet too, especially their youngest boy who is five.

Tim cycles over the bridge and along by the Sangke river and a smaller shaded stream to their house in Okccheay for his lessons. He is really enjoying it.

Eden of the garden

Eden is leading the way in Khmer inculturation. He is not very interested in our hoard of toys, books and games in the house, no, he is off out into the garden to scrabble in the dirt and play with sticks or balls or anything else he can find for that matter. He is commonly found round the back or off by the fence somewhere or alternately making a dash for it when the gate is open. Given half a chance he is off out the gate and round to one of the neighbours with a parting squeal of delight to let you know that he really should have an adult with him. He will chat and play and befriend almost any Khmer that he meets. On our recent trip to Phnom Penh he kept stopping to look at white people, somewhat uncertain of them, before trotting off to find the nearest brown face to play with. It seems he has discovered his Father's love of these friendly yet wounded people.

In the Countryside

We love going on forays in to what Forrest calls the countryside, whether it be out the back of our house amongst the chamkars (snall vegetable and fruit tree farms) or further a field to the paddy fields. Sometimes we go by foot, sometimes by bike, and increasingly Forrest goes on his trike, Gordon, which is really a steam engine. Our trips alternate between racing along excitement and chatting about everything to we see and unscheduled descents into peace, silence and tranquility, moments of awe and wonder. What a gift these times are for us all.