The Lost World

The Lost World

We were in “Zoe Village” a small Cambodian hamlet nestled beside a bustling highway two hours from Phnom Penh. The highway market adhered to the grimy pot holed highway, off which led a few dusty narrow scraggly dusty tracks into the village. The houses were mostly stilt houses built in the traditional way with new, old and recovered material. Buffalo, chickens, hogs, ducks, dogs, fish ponds and gardens shared the mostly generous plots of land which had a good covering of fruit and indigenous trees which sheltered them from the relentless Khmer sun. Rice paddies stretched away into the plains up to and around the holy mountains  abruptly rising in the distance.

The people that lived in the houses were multi-generational and seemed to mostly live eat and often work in the shady recesses off the houses. Their shadows and ready smiles could be seen as one passed and their banter assaulted the ears in the unfamiliar Khmer. They were not familiar with European people in their midst and they would look at us and turn shy; the children would run out to watch us and wonder at our pale sweaty skins and large physiques. They would say “hello” and smile and laugh when we returned their greetings.

The roads/tracks were never idle always there were people, cycles, motorbikes, small trucks, tut-tuts’ in all configurations even buffalo carts and hand carts trundling by. The dust eddies settled on all fine and chalklike. The ability of the Cambodian to load a conveyance surpasses anything in my experience, their sense of balance has got to be seen to be believed. Whole families managed to ride on a motorbike and it seemed villages on the back of trucks.

 

About a kilometre and a half from the highway was the village pagoda walled in the Cambodian way and fronted by the local government school. They were walled in by an ancient rendered sixteen foot high wall, traditional Cambodian. There was an old pagoda dating back a good few centuries and a newer one only a few years old and much more open, accessible and easy to get into. Both were dominated by huge statues of the Lord Buddha and frescoes of his life adorned the walls. Dotted about were monks quarters, kitchen areas store rooms and various shrines and statues of lions, Hindu like Gods and small burial pagodas some quite old.

We had wandered down to the pagoda in the morning after visiting the market and fulfilling a need to have a look around at this strange landscape and setting. The place was a passing parade of Cambodian life and we were like corks on a pond as we wandered around revelling in the atmosphere and marvelling at the sights. A monk who seemed to be directing people and things (the Abbot) came up and introduced himself in Khmer we said hello back and bowed in greeting. He led us into the pagoda where we paid homage to Buddha and offered incense and a gift. He then brought us water and set us in a cool place where we continued to soak in the richness of the place.

After the pagoda visit we walked via a circuitous route through the village and just before getting to Zoe’s place we came across a place that had lots of chairs set up with special coverings and people milling around and feasting. They were noisy and celebratory; we looked in at them and they at us. I smiled and waved they returned my salute and then suddenly a young girl came out shyly she was dressed in jeans and t shirt and had a smile as big as Cambodia. She spoke little English but she gestures to come in and pulled me into the table and soon we were eating rice and fish soup,( Amok) and various Cambodian dishes which we has never experienced before, including very sweet rice and biscuits things, washed down with copious quantities of sweet drinks and tea.

All the time we were introduced to a variety of different people including the grandparents, cousins, sisters, brothers, but especially the girls’ parents who were most effusive in their welcome. More people kept arriving all the time and people came and went, Cambodian traditional music blared away from big speakers. It was not a wedding but some kind of festival which was special to this girl and her family. Through the broken barrier of language she told us it was special for her and her sisters and that we should come back for the main part of the ceremony at two pm when we would go to the pagoda. She also said they would be dressing up special for this. All the time we were there golden and ornamental gifts had been arriving with the people filling up a large table to overflowing. We left them with a promise to return later.

We went home to refresh in the shade of Zoe’s house, have a scoop shower (no running water in these houses) and get changed into finer attire. The temperature was probably thirty degrees with a high humidity, typical Cambodian weather and why everything grows so fast there. Refreshed we walked back, the festival had become louder, bigger and even more joyous. We were seated in a place of honour and given cool drinks and always had someone to help us and guide us although no one spoke English.

The ladies and girls were dressed in finely embroided white blouses with gold and silver lace,  long Sarong like dresses  hugged their bodies. The men were in white shirts and dark trousers. There was an official photographer and a video man there now to record the day and take endless photos many of which we were included in. The gifts kept arriving and a vacant elaborately carved mahogany chair was garlanded and mounted on the back of a truck. This was some festival we marvelled at the spectacle and the colour of it, the generosity of the people and the good humour swirling around.

We wondered at what this was all about and settled on the supposition that it was probably a coming out ceremony for the girls in this family. Suddenly a drum, cymbals and men in masks and dressed traditionally with all sorts of instruments appeared from down the road, the crowd rose as one milling around and picking up golden and gilded presents and packages. We were gently pressed forward into their midst, Maureen was offered a gift to carry, the music rang out in a driving hypnotic beat simple and compelling. The crowd formed up behind the band and we marched slowly behind making our way toward the temple about a kilometre away, the truck with the empty seat followed behind, holding back the passing traffick which banked up behind.

We smiled and waved at the people we passed in the houses and the crowd was like a living serpent as it wound along except this serpent was noisy and had interchangeable parts. The whole moved to the beat of the band and masked men playing at its front, it was like a pulsating heart throbbing and bulging in a swirl of colour, dust, glare, excitement and sound. Although we did not understand what the central theme was and our theory on coming out was looking shaky, we were moved by the animation off the people and the magnificence of the occasion.

The throng made it to the pagoda gates and were stopped by the monks dressed in their orange robes, an exchange took place and after a lot of toing and throwing we were let in too much noisy acclamation and high emotion. The holy place filled with the people and noise, we paraded into the large new Pagoda taking off our shoes at the entrance. It was like water passing over a rock as we flowed into the temple like area.

The Buddha was decorated with lights, ribbons, and garlands, incense billowed up in thick clouds. The girls and ladies who carried the gifts surged forward placing them before the Buddha and bowing and offering homage to him. After this the crowd squatted cross legged on the floor, we struggled to sit like this but found a ledge and sat reasonably comfortably. The crowd talked and waved animatedly to each other our young friend had found us and she looked beautiful as they all did. She told us in her halting English and explained that we would pray for a while. The crowd kept on talking excitedly.

Suddenly there was silence and the deep male voice chanting a mantra came over the PA, all bowed to the floor to the Divine One then back into the lotus position. The mantra continued answered now by the crown in unison and chanting deeply. It reminded me of the Rosary and the chant of monks at prayer. The sway and rhythm of the prayer was very powerful  seeping into your being like a soothing balm. Then they stopped and moved as one sitting away from the Buddha and facing outward then the chanting began again. Sitting there it was like a cool breeze washing over you on a hot day , soothing and yet confronting your very being.

Sometime later it was over and all was up and on the move again, more photos, videos, camera calls, banter, laughter, and celebration.  the big carved throne had been moved in by the Buddha.  Maureen and I eventually wandered out into the glare of the day. There under a huge covering was a feast laid out with more rice and fish soups, noodles, sweets drinks and celebration. We joined them at table completely overwhelmed by the generosity of these people. We talked on for another couple of hours; we honoured the Abbot, said hello to the cooks who had prepared the feast in huge cauldrons and woks out the back. We parted reluctantly from our hosts the girls’ father and mother, and walked wonderingly into the gathering twilight.

Some words in Khmer:

Hello      Suosday               Goodbye             Lea Heuy             Yes         Baat (For men) Cha (For Women)

No          Otay                      Thankyou            Akun                     Sorry     Sohm toh

 As I ponder on the festival we experienced above and the other events of our last three weeks plus weeks travelo, I marvel at the richness and beauty of the Cambodian and Vietnamese cultures, and the spirituality and generosity of its peoples. People that often do not have anything near the wealth that we have. The average wage of a Cambodian is $80-$120 a month . These are also peoples who have endured years of war and hardship. (Pol Pot, Vietnam wars, World War, Colonial Wars)

They are also societys changing very quickly and growing rapidly along with the rest of Asia. I wish them good luck with this and all prosperity. But I hope they do it in a manner that protects their culture, spirituality, people and environment.

I think back to when I was a boy and Australia was poorer then it is today, I remember the richness of family life, the  joy of simply being together, the ritual of family the holiness, and pageantry of the sacraments and tradition. A world long gone we are certainly have much more now,  but I doubt if we are any richer!

We lost that world, sold it for a bauble and a song.

Note:

Zoe (My Niece) is a volunteer in Cambodia and her story can be found on Camblog.

John and Maureen were in Vietnam and Cambodia researching for the novel to follow Kiss of the King Brown.