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Published: January 30th 2016
My Cambodian friend Neeri asked me if I missed my home in America.
"No," I said. "Right now this place is my home." She and members of her family smiled. They came from a city far away to cook for me and be with me during my visit to Chi Phat. Despite all their family problems and worries, they have embraced and welcomed me into their lives. Even language does not seem to be a barrier. Our fondness for one another needs no words.
My home. That's how I will continue to think of Chi Phat as I spend the next few days here, at the edge of the Cardamom Mountains in southern Cambodia.
I volunteered here last year for two months, which allowed me to share in the lives of many. The family who runs the bungalows where I stayed told me that they missed me a lot, and each gave me a warm hug upon greeting me. They put me in the same bungalow. It was as if I had never left. I even found one of the heavy wire "S" hooks that I left there last year, hanging from the wall. They told me that
Tokay lizard snags a big bug.
BEfore my very own eyes, he emerged from behind a picture and snatched this magnificent creature.this was the last of the bungalows that they would rent to other guests, because they wanted to "save it for Terry."
Each member of the bungalow family invited me to their housewarming party--to celebrate the completion of a new house they built nearby. Ratha, the oldest daughter, dropped by my bungalow before the party to check out what I was wearing. She wanted me to try on a dress her mother sent. The sleeveless polyester dress was far too small for me--her mother is so petite, and does not quite match my spreading senior size. So then I showed Ratha my special Goodwill store find--a colorful sequined blouse.
"What will you wear with it? Let me see it on," she said. I modeled the flashing sequins and showed the pants I would wear. She crinkled her nose and asked if I had something else. I showed her the outfits I wore in India, which would all be too hot, and other blouses I had brought.
"It's up to you," she said. I didn't have one of those shiny, sparkly dresses that come in a rainbow of fluorescent colors that the Cambodian women adore. I chose a
less flashy top and pants.
"Do you want to get made up?" Meaning sit in a chair for an hour and allow a "beautician" to cake my face with foundation (although I would not need the intense whitening that most Cambodian women get), pencil my eyebrows, and spray my hair. I declined. I was touched by the offer.
The party was predictable--food, beer, loud music, dancing, lots of cheer. I sat at a table with mostly men, who waited for me to get with it every time they raised their glasses of iced beer to drink a toast. Because I was the oldest, I could hold my glass the highest. I kept my glass packed with ice, otherwise, I would get drunk quickly with all the toasting. Plates of food appeared in the middle of the round table, and each guest used chopsticks to pluck the food that they wanted. This was after we each unwrapped our glasses and utensils, wiped them with the napkin provided, and threw the plastic and used napkins on the ground at our feet. We even tossed chicken bones below.
Since there was no band, guests sang karaoke style on the stage.
Purple berries, purple tongue
Rat's daughter happily gathered these berries when we went for a sunset on Bald Mountain. He told me they are good for diarrhea. Kids love to eat them. I tried a few--they are pleasantly tasty. Afterwards, the DJ played an appropriate mix of traditional songs to which everyone could dance, and techno noise to which everyone who was inebriated could dance. Smiles flashed as we gyrated, waved our hands like out of control apsara dancers, and got blasted by the huge speakers.
The party was the biggest social event, but there was also the insect drama. A green leafy bug looked like a katydid on steroids, with a wingspan nearly as large as an adult's hand. After we admired the captured red eyed beauty on the floor of my godson's wooden veranda, it dashed to the wall and started climbing. I snapped photos as it climbed, then noticed that all the people watching from behind started murmuring loudly, signaling the approaching drama. A giant tokay lizard darted from his home behind a picture on the wall, snatched the creature's head and crunched, shook, and crunched some more. The insect flapped its wings hard. It was quite a mouthful for the lizard, so he loosened his grip. Then my friend Neeri stated that she would help the insect. She grabbed its crooked wings and carried it to safety in a potted plant. I'm sure it
Godson's mother, Neeri
She's taken on the care of a two month old left by her husband's daughter. will die a prolonged death, and the tokay lizard will go back to snatching tiny flies from the light of the fluorescent bulb on the ceiling.
I am filled with joy every time I meet someone from last year--a worker from the community office, a guide, the man who cares for the animals at the Wildlife Alliance animal release station in the jungle, my godsons, the man who took me River lobster fishing, All have been gracious, welcoming, and express genuine happiness that I am visiting again.
Home. That's what it feels like. Home.
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Ann Jacobs
non-member comment
traveling vicariously
Thanks for sharing your travels with me. I love the way you describe your experiences. Blessings to you and all those you serve. Ann