Invitation to a Cambodian village

With Dorn Khat on his Honda, leaving the Salita Hotel, Phnom Penh 

Stopping for baked goods on the outskirts of Phnom Penh

About to board the ferry across the Mekong River

 Dorn with his mother, by their fields, Phloev Trei

  Manure fertilizer in the family fields, Phloev Trei

    Rice closeup in the family fields, Phloev Trei

Family dinner at Dorn's home, Phloev Trei

Family dinner at Dorn's home, Phloev Trei

 Napping at Dorn's home, Phloev Trei

Waking up from a nap at Dorn's home, Phloev Trei

Familiar Cambodian interior with a Buddha image and

pictures of the King and Queen, Dorn's home, Phloev Trei

Window at Dorn's family home, Phloev Trei

Banana leaves next to the front porch, Dorn's family home, Phloev Trei

Nearly ripe mangos behind the family house, Phloev Trei

With Dorn's Dad, behind the family house, Phloev Trei

 Flags still flying after the funeral of King Sihanouk, Phloev Trei

Iced coffee with Dorn and a village friend, Phloev Trei

Dorn's sister with the baby, Phloev Trei

 With one of Dorn's nieces, a very cute kid, Phloev Trei

 Dorn's sister and niece, Phloev Trei

Lee Hai and good bye to the gracious hosts, Phloev Trei

Phloev Trei's main street

Return ferries at Phloev Trei

Map of Cambodia with Phloev Trei east of Phnom Penh

Video #1 - Ferry across the Mekong River

Video #2 - Returning to Phloev Trei from the family fields

Video #3 - A ride down the main street in Phloem Trei

Video #4 - Family lunch with Dorn's family, Phloev Trei

Video #5 - Waking up from a nap, Phloev Trei

Video #6 - Lee Hai and good bye to the gracious hosts, Phloev Trei

WE WERE WEAVING our way through heavy traffic, down busy Monivong Boulevard, on Phnom Penh's major North-South street. Dorn Khat was taking us towards National Highway #1. I had been invited by the Salita Hotel Reception Manager, to join him on a visit to his parent's home. Phloev Trei, on the far shore of the Mekong River was the village where he grew up. Gradually i adjusted to the cramped seating position, trying to make myself impossibly compact, on the back of the small Honda motorbike. Somehow, we got through an insanely busy intersection, crossed the Bassac River with droves of other vehicles, mostly motorbikes. Now we were in a pungent fog of eye-burning traffic fumes. The outskirts to the Southeast gradually approached. Often we moved over to the paved shoulder to avoid the big trucks and buses, roaring by, some of which were making a dash for the Vietnamese border. Twice along the way we stopped. I bought some baked goods, as gifts for the family, but the near tipping point came at the second stop. Dorn got more groceries in the last town before the ferry crossing. Somehow he managed, driving like a circus performer, with the very precarious load. We left the highway, and there was the Mekong, at the far end of a long dirt lane. A battered looking ferry was soon to leave.

As we crossed the broad, flat Mekong River, i thought how exciting it would be to meet  Dorn's family and be in a Cambodian village again.

The ferry nudged a hardened mud bank. Up at the front, chains began clanking and down went a heavy metal ramp. All at once little motor bike engines fired up, in a chorus of high pitched whines. In a cloud of exhaust the drivers disappeared. I followed behind Dorn, and walked up the slope and into Phloev Trei. A few roadside stands were tucked away, in the shade, at the top of the river bank. From here we rode on some more dirt road and right to the house. We had  accomplished the trip in a little over an hour and a half, without the loss of any gifts or provisions, i should add. One of Dorn's sisters and a sister-in-law too, were at home with their babies, but Dorn's parents were nowhere to be seen. We returned to his bike and drove off to the fields were the family had a large plot of land. Pedalling toward us, came his Mum, on her bicycle. After an exchange of hellos, she continued home while Dorn took me into the fields. There i saw sacks of manure strategically placed at intervals. He told me proudly that farmers here, especially his parents, grew their crops without the use of chemicals. Dorn added that the farmers, just across the border in Vietnam, used too many fertilizers.

The house was elevated high above the ground, on tall posts, and a common sight in this part of the world. Raised homes were mainly a protection against flooding but i think keeping cool had something to do with this practice too. The floors were a bouncy deck of thin bamboo slats, atop spaced out wooden beams. You can imagine that i always placed my feet above the trusty looking timber supports beneath the see through floor. 

Meanwhile, the young women were cooking with a wok. It sat on top of a wood fuelled brazier. The arrangement was breathtakingly simple and it made my Western style kitchen, here in Canada, seem like a ridiculous extravagance. I say this only anecdotally, as it made little sense to compare two very contrasting lifestyles. But big changes were coming to Phloev Trei too, with the arrival of electricity just last year. One could only speculate how  monumental a shift that would bring to village life here.

Before long we were all sitting on the floor and sharing a family meal. Lunch was heavenly; fried whole fish (carp or cat fish i suspect), right out of the Mekong River, which included some tasty vegetable dishes as well as rice from the family's own fields. The pleasant eating combined with the added midday heat, left us all looking pretty sleepy. I for one, could feel a nap coming on so i asked my gracious hosts if i could lie down somewhere. I was offered one of the family beds, right by an open window. When i re-emerged from a short comma just a while later, a standing fan was blowing a cool breeze across the bed. I was touched.

Later, we were sitting on a platform beneath the house. I asked Dorn if his father would mind sharing with me, a few memories from life in the Khmer Rouge era. He seemed willing to oblige. Dorn translated as his father explained, in a very matter-of-fact way, what life was like back in those murderous times. I listened in silence as he told us that people who were too old, or just to tired to attend meetings, were simply executed! That was not the only reason to killed either! Not working hard enough, in the eyes of the cadres, was reason too to die. The bodies were buried in mass graves on the edge of the village. Also shocking was that Dorn's parents were ordered to marry each other. That was  back in 1978, at a mass wedding organized by local party officials, right here in Phloev Trei. Dorn's Dad also told us how work brigades toiled from before dawn until after nightfall. Normally they would stop, a few times a day, for a watery rice gruel break. This couple were perhaps somewhat better equipped to survive under such slave labour conditions, because they were local farmers. The so called "new people," forcibly evacuated from the cities, were far less lucky. The recent arrivals, who were also regarded by the Khmer Rouge as politically unreliable, perished in droves.

From the back of the house, i strolled with Dorn and his Dad, to the Mekong River. It lay at the foot of their long, narrow property. We passed under mango trees loaded with nearly ripe fruit. This was another magical moment – actually one of many throughout the day.

The time came to say Lee Hai, or good bye (as seen in one of the videos). After an extended farewell, Dorn and i pulled out of the yard and began the journey back to Phnom Penh. I was very thankful for the chance to be with this hospitable Cambodian family.

A week later i would return to Phloev Trei, this time as a guest at a family wedding banquet.