The Wild East

(By Susan)

Rory & I had a couple of days in Ban Lung where we took advantage of some time to do touristy things while the mineralogists did mineralogy things.

The Elephant.  She was lovely.  

Rory had found mention in the Lonely Planet Guide of the possibility of riding an elephant.  So that was first.  The hired van dropped us to the spot several Km from town.  We climbed atop a beautiful beast, sharing the dusty platform seat and proceeded around a short track that included a little local forest.  It wasn’t the exhilarating or awesome experience that we had hoped for, but now we’ve ridden an elephant.

Across the hills from a tiny bit North of Ban Lung.  A hut belonging to indigenous people in the foreground

We notice that no-one ever appears to be in a rush.  People just get about their business and things happen when they happen.  I can deal with that.  It seems civilised.  We also notice that everything is either recycled or repurposed.  Finished with that water bottle?  I'll use it to carry fuel, tea, more water.... And everywhere, several times a day, the kids go backwards and forwards on various forms of transport in their blue and white uniforms.  

On the way to class

It’s often the bits that you haven’t planned that give you the moments to remember, and those have been plentiful: attempting to arrange a motorbike from the elephant ride back into town and being handed a Nokia handset to speak to the owner of the bike; seeing the shop that sold all the things that the other shops need – the display cases, eskies, stools, petrol pumps, umbrellas, pots, green ‘kangaroo’ scales of varying sizes, umbrellas; watching stall holders keeping flies off random pieces of pig and pig heads with a plastic bag on a stick; discovering that there’s always a different price for “A Khmer” to “A Foreigner”; taking a motorbike down to a most beautiful lake in the crater of an old volcano, having a swim, and enjoying the breeze on the return journey; watching a woman weave a blanket, trying to give her the right money for a piece of her work, discovering that the misunderstanding was that she didn’t have the few ‘reil’ to give me in change, refusing to take it as I’d thought I hadn’t given her enough (due to the very fluid exchange rates) whereupon she grabbed one of her scarves and wrapped it around my neck as a gift;  discovering that one of the reasons for ensuring that you have applied enough sunscreen is to guarantee even adherence of airborne dust particles; watching piglets being transported in cylindrical basket-cages on the back of motorbikes; walking past Mr 17 and his white acoustic guitar playing Carpenter’s-style numbers while waiting to serve in his shop. 

A foreigner costs a little more than half a minibus...

We took a guided bushwalk too.  The track took us through gorgeous hardwood forest and across a number of mountain streams, through cashew plantations and past dormant rice fields.  This was time to reflect on what we were actually seeing.  

I don't know what the are, but I love these trees

Apparently this means we're in a protected forest area.  Interesting, given the level of chainsaw activity.

Spider web.  There were lots of them, but thankfully, these were tiny buggers.

Walking past the indigenous people’s dwellings we notice animals in, around, and under their homes – chickens cleaning the dishes inches from the place the meal is eaten, pigs wandering between the two raised platforms used as sleeping quarters and connected with a palm-thatched roof.  Children of all ages playing in streams or around the houses, if they’re not helping to do the work that is required of everyone in the family.  Houses repaired with scraps of tin, blue tarpaulin, or that fabric you see that makes those huge red, white, and blue, striped bags you see everywhere.  

Yaek Loam Lake

The lovely weaving lady

Giant hardwoods in the “protected” forest areas being felled for posts and furniture (amazing chainsaw-work producing pieces that look as if they’ve come straight from the mill).  Babies and children eating, sleeping, and playing around their mum’s market stall.  Forests being cleared to make way for acres and acres of rubber plantations.  Rubbish strewn everywhere.  How is it possible to make sense of it from our privileged Western context?  These people have been displaced so many times by tyrants, carpet-bombing, and land-mines.  Now, it seems, by rubber.  

Rory's lunch selection was a 'thumbs-up' at the Ban Lung Market

Heading off down the track with our guide, Sobonne

A cashew tree.  That's the fruit that the cashew comes in.

No local we speak to has much that is positive to say about the Government, the Police, the way that big business is done, but ex-pats living here and many who have spent a long time travelling around the country feel very warmly about the place – it’s about the people.

Hardwood forest

So picturesque

Nice chainsaw-work.  Straight from here to the furniture manufacturer.

There are schools, and several times a day you’ll see the children walking, cycling, and motorcycling backwards and forwards for classes.  They are very proud to say “hello”, “how are you”, and “bye bye”.  It’s good to see that the kids and their parents are keen to take advantage of the education system.  The schools are all of a similar design – the same design as the school that became Tuol Sleng Prison…  No.  It’s impossible to make sense of it all, least of all to understand.

Inside the hut

In between the two sleeping quarters - note the fire, the pig, and the machete

A hut belonging to an indigenous family.  We had a break here.

We’re pleased to have been able to contribute in a tiny way.  And thrilled that we’ve had this opportunity to go to places that are well off the beaten track.  Overwhelmed by what we’ve seen.  Thankful for the life that we have and the opportunities we’re in a position to take.

The village school as it is

 A student taking the others through their maths lesson

The new school is only 6 weeks away

Gemstones

(By Dermot)We say goodbye to Thora and Pohn who head back to Phnom Penh.

We leave Tbeang Meanchey for Tram Proung, we have Mr Sim as our new driver and Votha our gemstone guide. Votha is Cambodian, speaks fluent English, and is formerly a gem miner and dealer. He now works as a guide especially for the Thai Gemmological Association.

We are all a bit subdued today after the build and generally plug in the headphones and tune out.

Driving in Cambodia is essentially driving down the middle of the road giving a wide berth to motorbikes, ladened motorbikes carrying families, two adults two kids, bikes with 10 mattresses, piglets in baskets, 6ft planks of wood, bags of taro, vegetables, chicken, dozens of live chickens held upside down by the pillion passenger, pots and pans..., just when you think you’ve seen it all on a motorbike another one pops into view.  Cattle regularly and slowly cross the road, as do laconic dogs. Small children must be avoided, and of course, so must the oncoming traffic, which also happens to be in the middle of the road dodging motorbikes, laden motorbikes, etc ....

Bovine Traffic

 After about ninety minutes we arrive in Tram Proung.  Votha introduces us to Mr Leko a local gem merchant. In his little street stand he has some cut stones including local zircons, which are our target. He also has tektites.  We wander a little further down the street to get coffee in what might loosely be called a cafe, adjacent to Mr Phoun, also a gem cutter and dealer. Shortly, both dealers arrive at our table bearing rough and some cut zircons. Paula and I examine them on a light and choose a few. Every so often one or other dealer brings out a bigger stone, and eventually Mr Leko produces some very lustrous, brownish, red faceted stones. He takes one to a gas burner and heats it.  It turns perfectly clear producing a white lustrous zircon. He also produces several small sapphires.  None are of gem quality.  Rory takes a shine to a small barrel-shaped, pale blue, crystal fragment, the owner wants $60 – totally outrageous. I offer $5 for all the sapphires, which is promptly rejected. Mr Votha agrees the price is outrageous. I also select three carved tektites. So, the negotiations begin.  Votha suggests it is good form to buy from both men and the dealer should have the last bid. If he stays his price it is ok to stop bidding, but he must be afforded the chance to meet the bid.  Fortunately, Paula and I have selected material from both. The large stones from Mr Leko are about $6 per carat and the smaller $2.50.  Paula goes first and cuts the overall price down considerably. I follow and also reduce these rates.  As well as my purchases for the Museum, I buy three small stones for Susan too.  Next, Mr Phoun. He is not so keen to trade. In the end we reject the sapphires, except for about four crappy ones which Paula buys for analysis. He wants way too much for the carved tektites – about $45 for the lot. We should be able to do better in Ban Lung. We negotiate on 400 grams of rough zircon for $15, Paula takes ²/₃, and I take a third.

Negotiating

After lunch I revisit Mr Leko’s ‘shop’ as he had some nice ladle-like tektites, I buy 5 for $10. Paula and I also each buy a nicely-cut smoky quartz for $5 and I convince him to give me a gift of one of the crystals too. We bow and I make the ‘lotus’, trade completed. It is quite exhausting. Votha tells us: always go slowly.

Making the selection

 It’s quite tiring and exhilarating dealing gemstones. Basically, in this locality they have the upper hand, if you want local stones you have to buy them from these two characters.  Votha assures us we did ok.

So now we head on the 8hrs to Ban Lung. In our own thoughts we watch Cambodia passing by.

Laterite red soilsDry, baked earthYellowing leaves on forest treesLotus flowers in pondsShacksRubber plantationsForest clearing for rubber plantationsCashews, mangoesShack houses, with pigs and chickensEndless stream of motorbikesCambodian people’s party signs, Cambodian Rescue Party and FCC Party signsAngkor Beer signsWater buffalo with egret on its back.

Along the road

Reaching the Mekong at Stung Treng buoys us all. We get out to stretch and watch a laden ferry with about 6 cars depart. I mention that when you hear of overladen ferries sinking we could now be looking at one! Rory continues his quest for a watermelon, to no avail. But we search the shanties for cold beers in their eskies of which there’s only one. We buy 4, not all of them cold. Rors pays about 1.50 for the lot. 

Two little girls tease by saying ‘hello’ while giggling hysterically. We surprise by responding in Cambodian / Khmer! Susan frightens them (hey, she frightens me) they laugh. Susan snaps the giggling girls then shows them and their brother the image. They jump and run around laughing.

"Hello!!"

The warm beers go in the van’s esky and we drag out the cold ones.A truck laden with bricks has slipped into the Mekong and has to be unloaded. Small kids unload the bricks. It’s hot in the sun.

Not the outcome that was planned

The ferry returns and we drive on. Paula and Rors sit on the roof of the ferry drinking beer. Crossing one of the great rivers creates a tingle. It is a life-blood to SE Asia – Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam.

On Board!

We all get back on board energized and slightly silly. We discover Mr Sim is actually called Mr Sin. I suggest his wife is called Jezebel. At least all my sins are original!The road improves dramatically to Ban Lung we are up around 80km/hr slowing rapidly for cows slowly crossing, dogs, small kids and laden motorbikes.On one side of the road is a failed papaya plantation – dry earth with shrivelled trees. No rain until the wet. Near Ban Lung there is a huge area of land being cleared for rubber plantations.

Our abode for the next three nights is called ‘Tree Tops EcoLodge’, a wonderful place on the outskirts of town overlooking the valley. We have separate huts ($12 per night).  It’s the sort of place that would cost a fortune in North Queensland. We can hear gibbons. A funny Jingkok gecko makes a loud barking noise providing entertainment.

Our Cabin

We are all travel-weary and dine in the restaurant balcony overlooking the valley.

House Building

(By Dermot)

Streetscape

So, we started to build the houses.

To call a place a village in Australia conjures images of verdant cricket grounds, small churches and fountains in parks. Not so in Cambodia.

The road to the village where we will be building leaves the main highway about 60 kms south of Tbeang Meanchy, which is quite a large town. The dirt road to the village winds its itits s way through long grass, some of which has been set alight and is still burning, parts of the road verge for maybe 40 metres have been cleared of large trees. Stumps have been burn, all evidence of land clearing. There are few houses or people around. Occasionally huts appear adjacent to small banana plantations.

As we round a bend we see the first huts of the village, many look like animal shelters, simple wood and thatched structures. Some are on low stilts but many are not. Dogs, moving slowing in the heat, meander on to the road, paying little attention to our van. The red dust off the lateritic soils hangs in the air. I imagine this would be a quagmire come rainy season. Strewn along the road, white taro dries in the sun. Chickens are everywhere, many with very young chickens, colourful roosters too. Must be spring, puppies too are common. The dogs are dingo-like, yellowish, small and smooth-haired. They ignore us, mainly, they seek a shady spot to laze.

Some of the people

Many villagers are there to greet us. They are all small slight people. There are lots of kids, grubby-faced. They become shy, burying their face into a parents leg, while still sneaking a glance at the odd sight that has arrived in their village. We all give the ‘lotus’ greeting sign of hands in prayer-like clasp, bow to the villagers and unpack our gear. A smile is greeted by a smile. Some young kids look wide-eyed but also respond to a smile with a smile.  We unload our gear from the van and place it on a table set up beneath a tarpaulin. It will be safe there but anything else left lying around is fair game for the villagers. There are other rules, such as no touching anyone of the opposite sex, apparently to do so means they are carrying your child. I suggest to Rory we run around touching all the women saying "your my wife now". Also, to touch a child may be interpreted as wanting the child in payment for the house. So, I suppress the urge to give kids a ruffing of the hair! It is easy to see how avian flu takes off in places like this. Chickens, wander around everywhere.

Our “Rockin’ for Tabitha” team, comprises the Henries (Susan, Rory and me) our illustrious leader, Paula Piilonen from the Canadian Museum of Nature, a veteran of 7 previous building projects, and Thora Broughton (Canadian, retired aid worker). Pohn, a Cambodian worker from Tabitha is there to assist, advise and interpret.

Now I know, many of you may think the only thing handy about me around the house is that I live there, well, wielding a hammer by and large is all that is required!

As a team we have raised funding for ten houses. They will accommodate about 65 people. The recipients have been selected by the villagers and helped by Tabitha to raise some funds for their house. They do this by putting aside a small amount, maybe as little as 50c per week, with the aim of putting the money into a project that will generate more income. Typically Tabitha helps them buy chickens, which, once raised can be sold. The aim is to encourage saving and enterprise. Each recipient is to raise about $25.

The houses - the way we found them, and afterwards from the outside and inside.

The frames of the Tabitha houses have already been erected. They are all on stilts about 6ft off the ground.  They are to replace shacks, many are simple thatched structures that are generally adjacent to the new hut. There are no trinkets and heirlooms here. Just the essentials, pots and pans. In recent times, some wells have been established, some by Tabitha, one by some religious group that insisted on a stone structure in blue paint and perspex promoting Jesus, which seemed at odds in this simple community.

There are 4 contractors to help us. Our tasks are to nail in the floors and cover the walls in ‘tin’ sheets. It’s hot work. Fortunately Rory and Paula are adept up the very top of the ladders, which are easily about 12 to 14 ft off the ground. Susan and I work the lower levels. Thora, who broke her wrist a week or so before leaving (slipping on ice in -30C Ottawa) works away on the floor. We all assist on the floors from time to time.  It is impossible to keep the villagers away (although they’re not supposed to in case they get injured) but some of them will be living in these new houses, and of course they’re excited. They help line up the sheeting. One man tries to pinch my nose and Rory’s. They believe our noses are pointy because we stick them on every morning. We have a good laugh and I pretend to tweak his nose in return.

Building

It’s hot work but constant and time goes quickly. On the first day we complete 6 houses leaving 4 for the second day. We return to our hotel weary and ready for a cold beer. We have an early dinner and an early night.

Day two, we are up again for a 6.30 breakfast and head back to the village. Again the villagers greet us and we set to work. On the first house a young villager insists on helping me. After finishing he leads me by the hand down the road to another house where a pump has been installed, I stick my head under it and he pumps the water, laughing as he goes. After much gesticulating we swap names. I think his name was Aki. Later I discovered the first house was for him and his two young kids.

Pohn, our local Tabitha person, cooked a wonderful lunch of chicken with lemon grass with rice, and a banana flower soup. As I eat lunch under the tarpaulin I notice that a chicken is nesting in a cardboard box above my head. Two small kids set up three logs and proceeded to chuck rocks at them knocking them over like skittles.

After lunch, in record time, we finish the tenth house. Rory is knackered, he worked tirelessly up and down the ladder for two days. He enjoyed the banter with the Cambodians and especially the lead contractor. One villager had held the ladder for him all day.

After the final house was completed all the villagers were called together. Pohn made a small speech, as did Paula. Then the head villager thanked us for coming and helping the village. We presented each family that received a house with a blanket, which was stitched by Tabitha workers, mainly by women rescued from the sex industry in Phnom Penh. It was quite emotional for all of us. We had photos taken and then dispersed to let the villagers move into their new homes. I sought out Aki. His wife looked very young, maybe even a teenager; they had two kids, identical in size, a boy and girl. I introduced them to Susan and Rory.

Outside the village we stop at the small school. It is essentially a shelter with three walls divided into three partitions. I think grade 1 then 2, 3, and 4&5. To me the kids all look tiny. Most are wearing uniform. The teacher, who also looks very young, calls on one young girl to come out and read the maths lesson off the board. She does, with the class responding in unison. There’s nothing quite like rote learning! Each class repeats this exercise. It’s very entertaining. Adjacent to this school, Tabitha are funding a new brick school comprising six classrooms. We inspect the site and one of the workers explains that it should be finished in six weeks. The kids won’t know themselves, especially during wet season.

It will take a while to digest this experience. As well as being physically tired for the work, the attack on the senses is also exhausting. I have an overwhelming sense that there is so much to be done. To keep perspective, Tabitha have built over 40,000 houses accommodating nearly 500,000 people. Susan and I agree we don’t want the people to feel grateful. We should feel grateful for what we have and that we have the luxury of being able to choose to help others. I get a sense from the village that they are a community that works together, in selecting the recipients they have chosen to help the most needy in their own community.

My last image of the village is one of the woman walking along the road with two children transporting the blanket package on top of her head.

I think of the old black and white photograph in our living room called “Sunday Morning” circa 1910. A family stand in front of their small white-washed (possibly single room) cottage on the Island of Aran, west of Ireland. Small people, clothes dishevelled and grubby stand proud in front of their humble home. I had Rory, as a child, convinced the grubby small girl on one end was his mother prior to emigrating with one pig, one cow and a big sack of potatoes. We are all from humble begininings.

I think of Aki and his family and hope that the children will get an education that will help lift them all out of poverty.

Again, I’d like to thank all of you that contributed generously to this project.

 

Aki and his family

Building

(by Susan)

Today we began what we are here to do, and what many of you helped with. 

We arrived yesterday evening into Tbeang Meanchey in Cambodia’s Preah Vihear province – you can find it on Google Earth, if you have trouble with Google Maps.  The Province is known through Traveller Alerts as the home of the amazingly wonderful temple near the Thai border which is actively under dispute…  it’s a long way from us, so please don’t fret!  The town is larger than I’d expected, and I certainly didn’t expect to have access to wi-fi at the restaurant!  (it’s a small-ish system so I won’t push it with trying to get images uploaded and transferred to this – it’s likely I’d be there ‘til lunchtime.)  They don’t get too many Western visitors, so we’re a tad obvious in town.  Apart from meals and buying water at the service station, however, we’ve hardly been in the town itself, really.

This morning we headed out at 6:30 for breakfast and then to the village.  It is a little more than an hour South of Tbeang Meanchey, approximately 60 km away.  The last leg of the journey was on a dirt track that seriously challenged our van, and seriously challenged my stomach on the way home.  The track twisted and turned through scrubby bush, much of it in the process of being burnt off.  I’m told that this is to make way for hopefully planting rice in 6 months’ time.  In between there were occasional banana and rubber crops.  The village itself appeared to have 20 or so dwellings, mostly of wood and palm construction.  The houses are low to the ground, many with timber platforms at the front.  They run along a single road, and are about 20-30m apart.  There are no fences, and children, dogs, hens, puppies, chicks, motorbikes, and people wander freely between them.  It wasn’t clear where their water comes from, but each house had an enormous earthenware pot full of fresh drinking water.  True to the promise, there was also a beautifully constructed pit toilet with timber-framed edges and a sackcloth frame built especially for us.  Which was nice!

When we arrived, our houses had been constructed to frame stage and had their roofs and doors attached.  Our job is to attach the sheets of very thin tin to the hardwood frames using locally-made, and variably reliable nails.  We also nail down the floorboards – that’s the plum job!  The houses are on posts which take them 6ft off the ground and away from the water-flow of the wet season.  That means that all of the nailing happens on ladders, or from the ground for the bottom row (or from a beautifully constructed little stool if you’re as short as me!). I haven’t been up and down ladders so much since….  well, since ever, really.  The Rules, you’ll remember, said that we shouldn’t show our wimpiness so each of the three times I belted my thumb with the hammer (I’m a slow learner) I laughed and gritted my teeth.  I don’t like that rule.  We managed to finish three houses before lunchtime, so it actually felt do-able by then.  Six today, four tomorrow.  The day was warm enough – 32C in the heat of the day – but we stayed hydrated and there was water to pour over our heads when we needed it.  We took regular breaks, but the Cambodian contractors and the few men from the village didn’t.  They seemed to be having fun showing us that ladders are barely necessary while they hung out of doors and windows or walked along the beams to hammer nails straight from impossible angles.  Maybe we aren’t made of the same stuff!

The village is:  Koh Loong, in Rak Smey commune, Ro Vieng, Preah Vihear province.

Looking around the village at the housing that they’re living in at present, I think the families will be pleased with being up and above it all under a roof that doesn’t leak and is less likely to blow away.  These houses are one of the steps towards the village becoming self-sufficient in produce, and hopefully have some to sell in the not-too-distant future.  The families have been a part of a savings program to get to this point, and have clearly been working to get this far.  Some of the families, too, have been selected by village residents to have a house.  Often they are families who aren’t in a position to save like the others, and they could be a grandmother with many parentless grandchildren, for instance.  I’m not sure, yet, who our families are, but I believe that these 10 houses will put a roof over the heads of approximately 60 people.

At this end of the day, we’re a tad muscle-weary.  It’ll be an early night as we’re up and at it again for a 6:30 breakfast and to complete our remaining four houses.  Now that we know what to expect, I’m looking forward to it!