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Update!!! Visit Koma Baitong for pictures

By Phatry Derek Pan

Imagine 30-something sugar caned sipping perky university students, over 400 plus screaming, but obedient elementary kids, 1 charismatic teacher, and a Khmerican backpacker.

Now start falling in love with the beauty of the country's landscape of swaying palm trees, lime green naturally perfect trimmed grass, the light chocolate mighty Mekong, and the romantic mountains delicately tucked in the backdrop.

This is no fantasy scenario - instead a setting for my latest day adventure in Prey Veng province in southeastern Cambodia.

In prewar times, the province became known for its production in rubber - it’s most profitable product. In pre-Angkorian, the area was the seat of Ba Phnom, a religious and cultural site dating back to the 5th century at the time of the mysterious Funan civilization. But these days, very little tourists make the excursion to this sleepy province. And today, Sunday, June 18th, the area becomes site for much needed philanthropy work.

So with the personal invitation of co-organizer, Chak Sopheap, I joined in the programming - a joint effort by students of the University of Cambodia (UC) and Pannasastra University of Cambodia (PUC). The agenda inked a courtesy visit to a remote village school to donate supplies, plant some trees and spend time with the children.

The drive began in a nearly packed air-conditioned bus. At around 6:45 at the whip of sunrise, the bus left the campus of the University of Cambodia; 45 minutes off the itinerary. I was zombie-knocked out for much of the 2-hr trip; fighting insomnia and trying to enjoy my Sissamouth tracks.

"Mate eurh kom pleang (Please sky don't rain)," I murmur The Golden Voice's lyrics while staring off to the deep gray horizon.

Three quarters near our destination, the bus arrived at Neak Leung Ferry which crosses the milky Mekong. Around a dozen vehicles could fit this overused and abused ship. While loading, I purchased some sour mangoes in salt and hot pepper from krama covered ladies. I observed that many carried a large circular platter of maloo or Khmer tobacco; perhaps a regional staple product.

Fifteen minutes later, we resume back on National Route 1. We arrived at what we assumed our destination. "But where is the school and the children?" we asked in unity. Our driver stopped.

"Um, we cannot squeeze our bus in that narrow red dusty dirt road," said the middle-aged, baseball cap wearing driver.

"Sure we can," echo the students. "And its starting to sprinkle, we might as well try."

But we didn't.

And it was the smart choice under these adverse weather and road conditions. Besides, the walk shouldn't be that bad - only 3 kilometers nestled deep in the road was where the school was situated.

But sprinkle now turns to drizzle. With only a large krama at hand and my signature North Face bag, I joined the gang for the trot. I could not bear walking. My thin, rusty green colored kow a chaa (traditional Khmer pants) had already started to absorb the rain drops. My deep military green button up shirt, too, began to dampen. I lost patience after fifteen minutes and suggested Sopheap for us to hop on a motodop. Without reservation, she obliged.

The two of us arrived minutes later soaked to the bone. Oddly though, the area was spared from the downpour. Kids and adults stared while we walked in the school confines - smiling and waving their hands. "Soksabai oun, soksabai!"

To a siren megaphone, the program begins. A stalky and charming university professor takes host while lines of pencil straight schoolchildren arranged neatly takes attentive. The next 30 minutes was a series of class competitions and spotlighted performances.

A young man around the age of 12 takes the stage. He grabs the microphone - poised. In a country with a saturated music industry where "everybody sings," his voice gives me reason to believe that Khmers will never lose this natural talent. He "oohs and woos" the crowd with every single breath. Remember his name - Chet Sereymon of Prey Veng province - the real Khmer idol. The UC/PUC students and I donated as much riels we could after the boisterous ovation.

Next, a boy and girl from each class are picked randomly from the crowd. Based off each level, the host entertains the crowd with Khmer trivia.

"How do you spell such and such in Khmer," to more difficult, "What provinces touch the great lake of Tonle Sap?"

Srey sross, Chhoun Nareth, 22, of UC is hand picked to come on stage to advocate about health and beauty.

"It is important to take care of your health by being clean at all times. Wash your hands with soap, brush your teeth after every meal, and stay away from infected chicken because of the bird flu," said Nareth, who now has everybody's attention.

After the psa announcements, games and the motivational talk, the university students and I began distributing the donated school supplies. Over 400 students, in nicely packaged wrapping, received a couple notebooks, ruler, several pens and pencils, and stickers. The dozen or so teachers present received a big brown envelop gift package. The crowd is overjoyed with gratitude and smiles.

While the crowd disperses in groups to begin the tree planting ceremony, I took the opportunity to speak with the young singer. I gave him my name card and encourage that he contact me soon for a possible Phnom Penh Post story. I learned that he is fatherless because of the Khmer Rouge.

The majority of the kids have dissipated back to their homes at around 1 PM. My stomach begins to growl but a much harder down pour has soured the lunch plans. We had to wait for cover under a traditional Khmer stilted house for more than thirty minutes before the rain eased and our transportation to arrive. That ride became the most "dangerous ride of my life."

Why, you might ask? Just imagine 30 or so students crammed in a roofless pick-up truck with low railings on wet bumpy narrow dirt road under mad rain! For the twenty minutes, Sopheap, Nareth, and I clustered together along the bunch. Strategically, we jammed in the middle. We had to dodge tree branches by bending down in uncomfortable positions and at the same time, fight for stability with the momentum of the students who stood. Many times, I anticipated for the worst - that a domino reaction of students stumbling over each other causing serious injury. While several of the guys continue to laugh and joke around, I sure for one became extra focused. Maybe they had experience riding under these conditions. I really don’t know. Luckily, minus Bopha's jolt in the abdomen from Sopheap knee cap, everyone came out okay.

The drive back to Phnom Penh was smooth cruising once we got on National Route 1. But I was still foodless for almost a half day now. I was given a nom psalm chrouk by the locals as a snack, but couldn’t bear to eat it. I wanted something more wholesome like rice. We fought starvation until I arrived back in Phnom Penh at 3:30 to the scent of fried chicken at Lucky’s.

The author can be reached at info at phatrypan dot com or 016 665 779.

Copyright, Phatry Derek Pan, 2006.

Phnom Penh Post, Issue 15 / 12, June 16 - 29, 2006


By Phatry Derek Pan

By the time he was seven years old, everything peaceful about Hin Chamnan's young life had been shattered. He lost his mother to a heart attack and his father to alcohol addiction. With his parents gone, he soon lost sustenance, support and even the roof over his head.

Shortly after these tragedies, Chamnan lost his left eye.

"One day I was horsing around with the neighborhood kids, and some dirt got caught in my eye," Chamnan, now 26, told the Post. "I neglected to take care of it, and it became infected. When I consulted a doctor, it was too late. I had to have a lifesaving eye operation to remove my left pupil."

The next 11 years spent in Phnom Penh's public schools saw his life descend into self-destruction. He admits he was misguided and misdirected. Chamnan skipped classes regularly and ignored his schoolwork. He never graduated from Preah Sisowath high school.

"I dropped out of school and began running the streets of Boeung Kaplhaok with the local kids," said Chamnan, referring to the decrepit, poverty stricken neighborhood where he grew up.

"Most of my group would steal money from our parents and hustle - usually spending what we made towards marijuana and yama, liquor and prostitutes."

Boeung Kaplhaok, or Kaplhaok, is nestled in Chamkarmon District off of Sothearos Boulevard near the former Royal Phnom Penh Hotel. The Khmer word kaplhaok refers to a green, unscented plant usually found around dirty swamps.

At 21, Chamnan started to emerge from his self-imposed miasma.

With the help of Phnom Penh artist DJ Sope, Chamnan found an escape from the delinquent lifestyle that had plagued him throughout most of his adolescence.

Hul "DJ Sope" Sophoan has been a popular local musician for years. He is credited with being one of the first Cambodians to import American hip hop music to Cambodia, specifically in the form of bootlegged copies of famed Khmer-American rapper Prach Ly of Long Beach, California's Cambodian community.

The new music changed Chamnan's life, opening a door to catharsis and creativity. Soon he was roommates with DJ Sope and writing rap lyrics in Khmer. Chamnan now goes by the rap alias A Ping, or "spider" in Khmer.

"The [hip hop] music sounded unique and cool to me. And usually, the content talks about one's life, which is different from pop music and other genres," Chamnan said.

"When I was living under his roof, I was more exposed to the music. The music spoke to me. Hip hop is educational. It teaches one to change bad habits and look ahead towards the future."

Now, with one of Cambodia's first-ever Khmer-language rap albums completed, Chamnan is ready to express his experience and attitude to the many disadvantaged but determined Phnom Penh youths like him.

Sok Visal, 35, Arts Director of Bates Media, producer of Chamnan's album, said he had known him since around 1997.

"I used to see him at Sope's, hanging around and usually being unproductive," he said. "But I was impressed with his talent. And when we had the opportunity to work together at Bates, he shared his interests in rapping. I make beats, and I believed in him, so we decided to do something together just for fun."

Under Visal's direction, Chamnan's full-length album Life in Kaplhaok Pond is set for release in Phnom Penh in the next few weeks.

"I want people to understand my life in Kaplhaok - about my struggles," Chamnan said.

"I want to encourage people to find their sense of purpose in life, as I have found in music."

The author can be reached at info at phatrypan dot com or 016 665 779.

Copyright, Phatry Derek Pan, 2006.

By Phatry Derek Pan

Yabbing beyond the wee hours did not deter us busy bodies to wake up bright and early this Saturday morning. After all, it’s not everyday I get to visit the birthplace of the Angkor civilization – Cambodia’s most sacred mountain – Phnom Kulen. It is here in 802 on the peak of the mountain; King Jayavarman II proclaimed independence from Java, giving birth to modern-day Cambodia.

At the cry of the morning rooster, we speed raced out our old school Corolla and off our adventure began. Driving on nice paved road, we passed through the Angkor Archaeological Park where we noticed truckloads of waving teens smiling as they try to catch the attention of onlookers passing them. The kids would squirt water from their bottles as Tony and I could only make monkey faces and wave back in retaliation.

Less than an hour into our drive, we stopped off the national road to a traditional Khmer village. Because the road leads to Phnom Kulen, I can see how tourism has affected this once sleepy community. Our first step off the car, a flock of young kids rush to our direction. My krama wearing, Tony’s blinged out wardrobe, and a non-Khmer Susan; what more could we ask to attract attention?!?

The kids had a rainbow of kramas and flowers (out of some fruit shell) for sale. We had our breakfast there under a simple roof and bench set-up. For two thousand riels, we had a bowl of authentic nom banjok, a Khmer dish that consists of long thin white noodles with yellow curry like sauce on top. No, it’s not the Khmer version of spaghetti! I bought a couple kramas as I waved my good-byes to the beautiful smiling kids.

Smooth concrete now transform into red dusty dirt road. Peering in the distance is Phnom Kulen! Alas, we are nearing our destination. The spiral road leading to the foot of the mountain comes to a complete stop as we approach the entrance. Susan had to purchase a ticket for a whopping $20, whereas, us Khmericans, paid a thrifty 2000 riels (USD $0.50).

I anticipated traffic congestion, but did not expect it to such magnanimous magnitude! A thirty kilometer trip could easily be accomplished within 20 minutes, but not during Khmer New Year celebrations. In 56 modem like pace on a slim two way road, we lost patience half way up. Many locals have already started walking on foot; which served a faster medium than the four wheel machinery. We could not resist either.

I grabbed my backpack equipped with the essentials – a water bottle, camera, journal book, couple pens, krama, a swimming short and towel – and off in my Uncle Ho tire sandals trekking up to the peak.

In common Cambodian anarchy, thousands make the pilgrimage fighting the madness and confusion that engulfs the area. At the apex, locals would pay homage to a sacred temple where a large reclining Buddha structure resides. Vendors lined the path selling atypical touristy items: jewelry made of precious bones and stones, BBQ baby monkeys, and other tidbits uncommon at the temple confines of Angkor. Instead, I restocked up with water and changed for Khmer riels of 100. I am not going to make the mistake of donating dollars at every temple spot, it adds up fast!

I reached the top after climbing a long series of cemented stairs. First thing after taking off my sandals, I washed my face using sacred water that spewed from a well. It was ice chilled. Barefooted, I walked in crammed space to light incense and make money donations to various shrines and monks. One of the many attractions was a large snake that young kids petted. Naturally scared, I built the courage to touch the reptilian. (This new found strength might be due to my previous Sihanoukville trip where I had cobra blood whisky concoction and cobra meat soup). I did not have the patience, however, to walk up the stairs to the sacred temple because of the traffic. My view at the present was unbearable to imagine.

So we left the area and took a comfortable walking cruise along the river. Our goal was to head towards the waterfall for a swim before we have our late lunch. It was already 2 PM; the crowd was still growing by the second.

Clustered together are groups of families situated all along the stream where sets a tarpaulin mat and a cooler with food and beverages for picnicking. Young kids and adults could be seen running around and playing in ice cool shallow water. We continued strutting through the madness; extra attentive to our friends. We did not want to get separated and lost. About 25 minutes later, we found our bungalow where we took a breather and laid our belongings.

I changed into my swimming trunks by using a room rented for 500 riels (USD $0.12). Susan, Tony and I left the bungalow and walked down a long series of wooden stairs. It was quite a descent and a challenge due to its slippery nature. I could hear the water roaring louder and louder but the thick marshy greenery added to the climax before finally reaching the foot. There it was – the majestic Phnom Kulen waterfalls!

I can’t swim and for much of my life, been terrified of water beyond the chest level. But fortunately, the large pond area where hundreds of kids and a few dozen adults dipped in to, the water level was only around my hips. Regardless though, I was a bit weary walking inside.

Tony and I courageously climbed over a dozen of overgrown pebbles to get closer to the velocity of the raging falls. Photographers flock taking souvenir pictures of us re-enacting fighting scenes depicted on the walls of Angkor. With hanuman style poses characterized by its arching juxtaposition, kids naturally jump to look in our direction. Twenty snapshots later, the two of us meditated in Buddha style fashion under the waterfall, focusing and filtering out every sound. A tough challenge, I might add.

My once indestructible tire sandals gave up as the right shoe snapped while walking up towards our bungalow. We ordered a late lunch at around 4 PM that consisted of a BBQ chicken with thinly sliced sour mango and fish sauce, deep fried battered squid, beef skewers, spicy papaya salad, and an array of fresh vegetables. It was finger licking delicious!

At this time, pretty much of the crowd had dissipated. Young scavengers in their large empty rice bags have already begun searching for coconut shells and used bottle waters to resale. We finished our meal, called our driver just in time before sunset had befallen. We snapped a couple group pictures with the remaining amount of 100 riels found in the crevices of our pockets. I bargained last minute for a Buddha necklace made out of white stone or bone. Our day adventure had come to a relaxing conclusion and off we cruised back to Siem Reap city.

This was my first trip to Phnom Kulen and surely a memorable one to add to the rich collection of travel adventures in Cambodia.

The author can be reached at info at phatrypan dot com or 016 665 779.

Copyright, Phatry Derek Pan, 2006.