New Community Site setup for Beng Melea Orphanage

Hi Friends,

Thanks for all your interest and support on this blog. I've got some exciting news. We've set up a .ning site which is a community forum and site for helping develop the resources surrounding the orphanage CCRDO at Beng Melea. see my post here:
Beng Melea Story

Meanwhile, we invite you to join the .ning and add your voice and help to this very worthy project. The kids are waiting!

Here's how: ccrdo-org.ning.com
See you in the ning!

Paul

All is quiet . . .

All is quiet. But it wasn’t last night. We are in Kep, a sleepy seaside resort town that has seen more excitement in previous years. It was a major resort during the French Colonial period in Cambodia, when wealthy French villas lined the coast. During Khmer Rouge days it was considered endemic of the oppressors of colonialism and was destroyed almost completely. Now, the shells and ruins of villas line the coast, but just inland are a series of simple resorts catering to mostly Western patrons.

Last night we had a sunset kayak courtesy of the Sailing Club, an easy-going resort on the sea front. The water here is just a few feet deep for a few hundred yards out and the wind was very quiet. Afterward, as the light disappeared over Rabbit Island, we sat down to some of the local specialities, such as squids with Kampot peppers.

There were a few private parties coming into the Sailing Club, so we had promised to have our meal and move on by 7pm when the hoopla would begin. After dinner we played dozens of games of Uno as the night settled down and the employees scurried about preparing for the large groups. Two guys showed up with a electric piano and saxophone and began playing a variety of jazz, old folks songs like “Those were the Days” and MOR and 90s pop songs. They were competent and I was drawn to sing along. Finally I did get up and join them a bit. The book they sang from was the pianist’s fake book, he was a music therapist at a mental institution in Holland.

The groups began to arrive, one held our new acquaintance Sithy so we were greeted warmly and introduced to the older French speaking set for her dinner.

There was a major storm system in the area the last few days, though we had not seen very much rain. While kayaking we could see a few areas across the Gulf of Thailand that showed heavy rain. But it was with complete surprise that the loudest most intense deluge that I have witnessed in 30 years fell on the shore of the Gulf. It began strongly and just got stronger. One of the outdoor parties, an elegant younger French-speaking group, something like trustafarians or NGO workers in their cosmopolitan best finery, came running inside while their zen candle-bedecked tables were drenched and the barbeque pit was quickly extinguished. The staff (and patrons) went scurrying about rolling down great bamboo awnings all around the deck tables area and we all went into the main room with the piano.

The Dutch guys had finished and some of the young crowd wanted some music. I seized the moment, plunked down and launched into “Like a Rolling Stone”. The room exploded in sing-along as the rain grew even fiercer. At the peak of one chorus the entire place blacked out, but the gang kept on singing with loud hand-clapping as accompaniment. It was a peak New Year’s moment.

We were invited to stay by Olivier, the host of the party, an NGO worker who had excellent Khmer language after living here the last two years. We declined the invite as Bodhi had had enough and we wanted to make sure we could get home on our rented moto whose engine we were certain was so wet it would not start.

It did take a bit of doing to start the moto and slog up the muddy track to the main road. We tried for one more place, “The Riel” a bar which promised ice cream. As we entered, the owner, a wild-eyed looking Dutchman announced to the entire bar (no more than a few tables of tourists), the following: “I have been bit by a ‘scorpio’ and must go to the hospital, I hope I will be all right and I will be back in one half hour.” He said it again a few times. We asked his Khmer friend who had stepped in for him for the ice cream, as he was leaving he ran back in and told us “oh no, my freezer has exploded and the ice cream is at Julian’s place.”

We decided to call it a night and came back to Kep Lodge for a Battlestar Gallactica marathon. By midnight, Amee and Bodhi were asleep and I could here fireworks exploding and strains of “Moondance” by Van Morrison from the bar here at the lodge. I had no desire to go mingle with strangers and went to sleep as well. The peak moment had occurred, singing out loud in a deluge, now cozy, near family, what could be a better way into the New Year.

Kampot and a new friend.

We met a nice young man in Kampot town. Kampot is a quiet river town with no allusions or pretense. The only nearby attractions are its famous pepper plantation – Kampot pepper is a national treasure, a few caves, the river itself, and the fact that the Khmer Rouge hid out in the hills near here as recently as 12 years ago. There has not been much tourism here yet, but perhaps its just a matter of time. The region is very beautiful with lush jagged mountains rising up from the fertile rice fields, it is gorgeous.

Our first morning led us to breakfast at Bokor Mountain Lodge, the most civilized Western establishment in town. Fronted by round tables with curved slope-backed benches of a heavily varnished wood like mahogany, the setting by the river invites a ponderous morning beverage.

Across the street in front of the river sat a gaggle of tuktuk drivers huddled about two tuktuks. I dropped over and inquired as to the day rate for exploring the caves and a pepper plantation. One young man perked right up with solid English, “I can take you to the caves, the pepper plantation. Would you like to go to Kep or Rabbit Island?” “No,” I told him, we are moving there after tomorrow. He was not only the most enthusiastic, but the only one of this gang who seemed to want the job. He seemed hungry for work and quite friendly. Mr. Van Doen became the next of our ‘driver-friends’, younger than all the previous ones and more interested in getting to know us.

We headed out of town an hour later and stopped for some water. I offered to buy him a cold drink and he accepted a Coke with no ceremony. We headed out once we established which caves we wanted to see, there were three to choose from. His tuk was a bit low on the shocks and a bit underpowered on the pull, but he wore no helmet and could trade comments and bits of Khmer language help as we rolled along. We chose the nearest caves which were unique for having a temple relic inside, purported to be from pre-Angkor period. He also mentioned that this cave was near to his house.

While ambling through the rice fields up to the base of the mountains, Van Doen told us about the Khmer Rouge guerillas that had lived just two mountains behind this one. They used to come down to fight on Saturdays, they felt this was a lucky day for battling. We were trailed by four younger kids (flashlight guides for the caves) who immediately took Bodhi under their wings. He was delighted to have some kids to run with. We made our way up to the caves and enjoyed the stalactites that resembled various animals, here a crocodile, there an elephant, etc. We were then led into a separate entrance for passing through the mountain for the intrepid spelunkers. I was wearing only sandals, Amee and Bodhi demurred at the initial double overhead scramble descent with the only light one shined in your eyes by the 10 year old guide. I started and found myself halfway down, halfway up and not willing to finish either direction, stuck really, too steep, too slippery to continue and not sure how to get out. I made it out and we left the area, not until some deliberation had finished on what to pay the four helpers and how the kitty would be split up.

Van Doen asked us if we’d like to take lunch at his family house nearby. We were delighted to accept. Here was incomparable countryside and an invitation for a genuine Khmer country lunch. He tried to phone ahead to his father to slaughter a chicken for us, but couldn’t get through. We drove to a nearby pathway where he parked the tuktuk and we walked across one of those thin lanes between the rice paddies. He pointed in the near distance and said ‘that my house.’ We passed one grass-roofed structure, a neighbor he shouted ‘hello’ to. We came around a bend through some trees and entered a small courtyard with some chickens, dogs and haybales about. We rounded the house and in the rear yard found members of his family, his mother, who greeted us with shining eyes and delight, his sister with a baby on her hip, just finishing lunch of what appeared to be rice with something on it, a handful of other kids under age 6 and some pigs nosing about for scraps.

A table was set up and some plastic chairs brought out. His father helped, though remained mostly inside the main house, a brother or younger male figure hovered on the periphery. I realized that we were likely the first Westerners he had ever treated to this privilege, I wondered why. On the way out of the caves, Van Doen had told me about his life, that he was learning English, that he wanted to go to university to learn computers, that he would like to be a driver as an additional job. He couldn’t afford University yet, it was $230 per year, I thought of how little money that was and wondered if I could help.

We were served a delicious fish soup over rice. The fishes were very little silver fish which we’ve since seen the boys catching in the river from the bridges in town. There was not much meat on them but lots of flavor and the soup was loaded with morning glory greens. We were very grateful for this experience. After, Van Doen explained that the small house had been even smaller but that he had worked selling vegetables to earn more money to improve the house. Tarps where rice and small green beans lay drying around the courtyard. He told us that the family could now grow enough rice to get through the year and would dry it now and store it inside the house. Van Doen told us about his father, that he had had to leave the area due to Khmer Rouge, to live in Phnom Penh so they would not kill him and take his land. He had returned after 1996 and had to start over on this piece of land.

After lunch we brought out the Cambodian hackeysack and Van Doen’s father came bounding out of the hut wearing sneakers and ready to rock. Bodhi joined in and we had our best game yet, it went on for a very long time! We invited Van Doen to visit us in Kep with his fiancé – this would be a bit different relationship, more as friends, not working for us. We await his visit in a day or so.

Photos by Amee Evans Godwin - more photos here!

Beng Melea Ruins - A surprise school for orphans.

Photos by Amee Evans Godwin - more photos here!

After a few days exploring Angkor Wat area, we left Siem Reap town to go to a temple complex 40K away. Beng Melea is known as the true ‘jungle’ complex. Where Ta Prohm is the nearby temple the forest has tried to reclaim, Beng Melea is truly part of the jungle. It has not been restored and is only navigable with a local guide. Ours was Mai, a landmine victim who spoke only a few words of Engish but was expressive and patient, repeating each Khmer phrase until we could get it. She had lost her lower leg at the age of 15 in an area explosion. This complex is completely de-mined but until recently was considered on the risky side without a guide. It is deeply mysterious, quiet and shady with huge broken stone blocks that you must navigate.

While having a bite of lunch back at the small village road we were approached by a handsome young man who handed us a small flyer about his orphanage/school across the street. He described himself as a lifelong orphan who made his work with children, orphans and teaching English. The flyer invited any visitor to check out the small school and garden and donate any needed items including rice, fruit, notebooks, toothbrushes, clothing and especially a big smile and an open heart. On a deeper level, they need yearly sponsors for the boys.

Mr. Vannak led us across the dirt road to a small courtyard where some 6 or 7 dusty boys kicked a soccer ball. He showed us the small but vital schoolroom where he had been teaching English related to perma-culture concepts. He had recently taken a perma-culture class that some Australians gave in a nearby village. Amee toured the garden which was very good looking, while Bodhi began to play with the boys. We had a Cambodian hackeysack which many of them seemed new to (though it is ubiquitous in the cities), Bodhi began to show them.

Mr. Vannak told us that they had a small piece of land nearby where they hoped to farm vegetables, he wanted to show us. We got in the tuktuk and left Bodhi playing with the boys, he was thrilled to be playing with some boys his age and very comfortable to be left alone there.

We drove out to a dirt track that led to a pagoda with a few monks hanging around outside with a few ‘monk boys’ – they are helpers for pagodas. The track led past the pagoda to a nice plot of land including broad leafy fields and a fish pond. The little fish he had seeded the pond with were jumping furiously. The sun was very bright as Vannak told us of his plans to clear the land, which would require a tractor and cost some $700 for the acre. He wants to grow vegetables there in a perma-culture method. They are beginning to compost and reuse other materials such as animal poop for fertilizer. He wished to grade the road as well so that visitors could easily come to the land and he could access the vegetable plot more easily. I asked where they would get their rice and he told me that it was not enough land to cultivate rice for them, they need to buy their rice.

Some internal decision had gone on between Amee and I by this point, we recognized that this project, the Cambodian Children’s Rural Development Organization or CCRDO was very very worthy and very in need. Many projects we have visited were further along than this one and it struck a chord with us. Here was an orphaned boy, like our Bodhi, who had dedicated his life at a young age to helping other orphans in a place and situation that had very little help or other resources. We could see it with our own eyes, and perhaps, we could help.

Back at the school, Vannak told me that they needed a water pump and pipeline to bring water from the river across the way, to the school so they would have running water. The pump would cost $50. This I could manage, I thought. I am a supporter of Heifer International which uses the method of identifying one farm animal as a gift for a needy village or family - the supporter purchases one goat to give to a child, and is told how much benefit that goat will provide to that one person. I felt that here was a similar and accessible method of helping, I could see the benefit with my own eyes – for $50 I could buy a water pump that would bring running water to a school housing 17 orphans run by an honest and hardworking orphan himself.

I agreed to buy the pump and Vannak followed us on his moto into the town, Dundek, some 30K away. When we got to the town he was at the hardware shop, but the news was not so great. The pump he wanted was not in stock, the only one they had was matched with a higher powered generator than he could afford. I sensed the downward spiral approaching. We picked out some other supplies for the kids including blank writing books, pens, toothbrushes, toothpaste and some Cambodian hackeysacks! We gave him the $50 so he could buy the pump in Siem Reap on another day and bid him farewell. We hope to help him build a website so he can show the world the great work they are doing in Beng Melea and increase their support. Right now 80% of their budget is from passing tourists at Beng Melea, he wants to turn this into only 10% with the remainder from more reliable steady sources such as sponsorship of the children. He has a full non-profit setup with the proper forms and bank accounts. Meeting Vannak and the boys and helping just a little was a nice surprise for Christmas Eve.

Battambang

Photos by Amee Evans Godwin - more photos here!

In Cambodia, there is a steady smell of burning. It doesn’t really go away, but abates in the dead of night when the a/c and the ceiling fan and blessed sleep remove its acrid reminder of the poor places. By the side of every road is a small fire often with a tiny toddler stumbling about it – in fact, children burned from household fires is a constant source of visits to the hospitals, for those that actually seek treatment. The fires feed on weeds, hay, corn husks, coconut shells, a bit of trash, the smell is sweet and sad and disturbing and not faintly nostalgic.

In Battambang, the smell did not really abate, but the smog cleared a bit. We were able to travel by moto without constantly covering our mouths and noses with scarves or buffs. We hoped the provincial city would be more old style Cambodia as in French Indochine. And the word was that there was more French architecture intact there than most places. We stayed in La Villa, a restored French villa with 8 guest rooms, it was wonderful. It had the large rooms with high ceilings, old style metal ceiling fans, narrow stone walkways, steep stairs and they put us in an old dormer rooftop perch with a shared private balcony.

In the first minutes following the long busride from Phnom Penh, we met Mr. Mo, an English speaking tuktuk man who offered to take us around. He was very cheerful and youngish, we accepted and ended up spending three very nice days in his company.

The first day we visited a circus school for underprivileged kids (are any kids in this country 'privileged?'). We tuktuked out to a small country road and a few clicks down was a large outdoor complex of buildings. The Phare Ponleu Selpak school was created by refugees in camps on the Thai border during the Khmer Rouge period. These 10 or so folks envisioned a school for teaching music, dance, art and circus to Khmer children. They are supported by several French foundations and are regularly visited by teachers of circus arts and other disciplines.

We stopped first at the music class where an older man was teaching a group of 7 or so kids traditional Khmer classical music with the Areak Ka ensemble instruments. They were very welcoming and offered me a chance to try some of the instruments, which I made feeble attempts at to their polite enjoyment.

Next we came to a platform where a theatre class was going on with a teacher and several high school aged students. They had made masks and were being workshopped in some basic mask acting/movement techniques. Several of the male students were extraordinary physical comedians and I was really impressed. Eventually eyes turned on us for the exercise and I was grateful when Amee was the one chosen to participate by one of the boys. Her sweet and silly moves as a tiger were really delightful. We moved onto the circus hall where many kids were practicing juggling and acrobatics. I wished I were Sippy Doug, or that he was here so I would have something to share. They were doing great work.

The next day we returned for their public performance and art gallery show. The talent was overflowing in the circus tent behind the school. We became friendly with the English teacher and he agreed to meet us the next day for breakfast at our hotel and a Khmer language lesson for the three of us. We learned a nice bit of Khmer which has helped us a lot in the last days. I’m sure if we stayed for several months here we could eventually get this language which can sound like amphibian to the Western ear.

The next day we visited a rice paper commune where various neighboring families make the rice paper that you have eaten in fresh spring rolls. This was really special to watch, the smoldering stone oven stoked by the shirtless assistant using husks of rice, the ancient looking woman steady at her task, pouring the liquid rice, cooking the crepe sized sheets and flipping them onto the spools for drying. The whole scene had a kind of mysterious, ancient quality to it. They can produce 1000 of these per day but earn only about $6/day from them, though it is their own business.

We also went to some Angkor period temples in a beautiful countryside area about 30 clicks out of town, the ride was amazing with smiling kids waving hello from their old bikes on the dirt roads. We were ‘guided’ by some real cool cats from the neighborhood who took Bodhi under their wings and had a decent amount of English. We ended our stay and prepared for a downriver trip to Siem Reap via a small ferry boat.

Though Mr. Mo spoke very little during the three days, as he dropped us at the ferry boat to Siem Reap, his heart seemed to pour out: “I live in a very modest room with my wife’s family now, but when you return you can visit me in my own home and eat dinner with me and my family. You have my number, please remember me!”

The Zoo Story, Pt. 2, Feeding the Bears

We head to the zoo, late now, since the meal has become the main event. We pull up to a compound of thatched roofs with tables underneath. A gaggle of teenage kids come around the car at once. They seem to have a bit of urban savvy or cool I would say so I begin to jive with them. I offer one or two the “Obama Muslim Knuckle” handshake, they haven’t learned this one yet, but pick it up quickly. One wears a fedora hat and has a very unique chiseled face, like a sculpture. He almost seems like a character from an anime or something in a human form. They are all holding coconuts and some bananas. One of them speaks excellent English and offers to tour us in the zoo, helping describe or name animals we might not know. I like to help these kids who want to earn a few bucks by working, so we take him on. In doing so, all the other kids follow along as well. It’s a funny stumbling kind of walk for the group, we begin to see monkeys all around, and come to an enclosure with great still crocodiles lying around just beyond the fence.

There is good fun in the forest as Bodhi gets to throw banana chunks to the dexterous monkeys who make great catches and gobble them down. There is a free roaming mule deer, very large, who keeps knocking into us casually. We see a mongoose, a white squirrel and keep hearing from the gang about buying coconuts to feed the bears. Eventually we realize that the bears are in a separate locale, the tour boy rides with us in the car, the coco boys chase on bicycle. There is a real desperation happening now, it is almost closing time and they all want whatever money we can produce for these coconuts. I'm feeling the swarm feeling again but can't believe the scene when we get out of the car at the sun bear enclosure. One boy after another jumps over the first enclosure fence (an outer pen) and begins holding out a coconut and beckoning us to allow them to feed the bear - if we're committing to give them money. "How much?" I ask. 2000 riel, we are told, this is 50 cents. We just don't have a lot of riel with us, not even a lot of single bills. We pay for one, the boy tosses the coconut over the fence and this cartoon bear, with a cozy little face, a broad orange shield shaped spot on his chest and a tongue that must be 24" long, grabs one and drops his tongue into the hole that the boy has slashed with his machete. The next boy begins asking us to buy another coco. I'm scrambling for money to get this over with but can't find enough small bills, Bodhi senses their desparation and says "just give him a dollar". We can't even enjoy the bear feeding, its hot, gray and murky and the mood is completely sour and desparate. We buy a few more cocos, the boys begin just slashing their prices to get a few riel out of us and the 4 or so bears are all already feeding. I realize the boys themselves seem like zoo animals since their inside one fence. Jesus, what a scene.

We spend our last money and get in the car with "Lucky" the tour boy to go see the tigers.

The Zoo Story Pt.1, Lunch from Heaven

Photos by Amee Evans Godwin - more photos here!

We’ve chosen to go to the Zoo about one hour outside Phnom Penh and Ken will drive us. On the way we will ascend a 300 stair hill to Phnom Chisor, a pre-Angkor temple ruin with fantastic views over the countryside. Bodhi is in good form, hiking the stairs without complaint.

As we traverse the long dirt road from the main highway to the zoo, we spy elderly Khmer people pouring small buckets of water to keep the dust down for the tourists, then others are in begging pose just after them. I remark to Bodhi that this is a job here, pouring small bits of water on long dusty roads in hope of a few Riel from tourists speeding by.

We arrive at a crossroads in the jungle and are flagged down by a kindly looking middle-aged man on moto. We’re looking for some lunch and he is the most enthusiastic to invite us to his little restaurant.

This word is kind of a stretch, its actually just his family with a few burners, cooking pots and preparation and cleaning area under a tarp roof, at the end of a half kilometer of identical spots with other families. The sad truth here is that we are the only car of zoo visitors and it's Saturday afternoon so the prospects don’t seem too good for these businesses.


The family surround us and we begin choosing our meal by seeing the ingredients laid out uncooked. This would be impossible without Ken who is warmly taking into account our dietary needs and fears – for example there’s a giant bowl of small ‘field crabs’, they look spicy and like spiders, but must be crunched whole with the teeth, so we take a pass.

The family and their friends who show up to try and share other treats with us, are curious about Bodhi, so Ken let’s them know the score. There are various fruits offered, including palm fruit, a small milky white pod that is slit length wise, you cup it in your hand, and quickly sip the sweet water from the middle, scrape a bit of the fruit into your mouth and discard the husk. Bodhi, surprisingly, begins eating these and can’t seem to get enough. He’s been a bit skittish about non-restaurant food thus far.

Pictures here will speak louder, this is an incredible meal, one of the best in our lives and we are treated to Khmer country cuisine including broiled chicken stuffed with lemongrass and garlic and dipped in a pepper-lime sauce that is out of this world; a large riverfish with its own preparation and spicy green mango relish; sautéed morning glory with chili peppers; steamed rice; Angkor beer and appetizers of these small prepared rice squares, slightly sweet, but also salty, in thatched leaf packets – delicious. We consume it on a raised platform on one of those woven plastic mats.
Bodhi turns to us and says “I’ve lived and gone to heaven!” After the meal a young girl appears and offers to massage our backs. We are told she has Down’s syndrome, though you cannot tell from her appearance and she seems high functioning. The massage is excellent and she talks a rapid mellifluous babble to Ken, who is patient and amused. He tells us later that some of her words are transposed, such as instead of saying “I was going there” she might say “I there going was”, this is in Khmer so is not a language issue, but her condition.