Cambodia

As usual, my allotted notice time for Cambodia was minimal at best. I was on the books to go to South Sudan but visa issues crumpled that plan outright. The time was ticking on the SCN project and necessary in-country steps were needed to take place.

I was in Turkey at the time because that seems to be my yo-yo point.

The trip actually put me in several places along the way. The first place was Dubai where I needed to collect some 'instruments' for the study - unfortunately not the musical kind. Here I found them in a crumpled bag in the corner of a room. We all appear to operate out of bags, no exceptions made. Our lives becomes a

This was one day after I haphazardly got into bother in Istanbul with a ginormous bill. Two drinks in for me and I was down by a grand.

The next stop was actually India. I flew to bengalaru for my first layover. I was not only the only western-looking person on the flight, but I was also the only transfer passenger. Touch landing down on the bengalaru flats I was greeted in person by a member of the airport staff to walk me through the process of getting into the airport again as a transfer. I had a good chat about Indian food and geography with the security guard there. Encouraging a strong appetite leading to two trays of calories in the food court.

The wait wasn’t too long and I was in the air again within a few hours. Singapore was my next tarmac.

By the time I got to Singapore it was now the middle of the night and I was feeling it. I don’t tend to sleep on planes, and airports themselves are no picnic when it comes to getting some z’s. So, going through customs and security I was into the main atrium of the airport shuffling about like a clockwork doll with mechanism difficulties. I dumped my bag in the bag bank as had 8 hours to kill till my flight.

Singapore was behind me and I was in the air again. I had taken steps into the country. Well, walked around the outside of the airport, but didn’t see much as nighttime Dawn was still some minutes away. Also, and I do have to say even in my most wearisome state, Singapore is easily the best airport I’ve been to. Plants and gardens everywhere, state ID the art facilities, open TV areas showing movies, interactive games the whole family can play, a huge variety of food and even a swimming pool. I was impressed, though admittedly sausaged.

I’m dithering again… I know I’m dithering because I’ve already slid with my fingers over this gadget with around half an hour of word construction and I haven’t even got to Cambodia.

Cambodia is a place. It is. You can find it on a world map. Go. See. Told you so.

I knew this already of course. But beyond a few fragments of history and from a few fleeting ‘how do you do's' to less than handful of Cambodian individuals I had met on my travels, I knew very little. I can tell you this straight off – they all appear very humanoid and act uncannily like the stereotype human I have seen in my life. They breathe oxygen (Presumably), eat food with their faces and do many other things which, all in all, isn’t that surprising being an earth place thing.

There I went, dithering again. For the sake of the spell perhaps. Stating just facts is boreish. Can’t be helped from time to time, otherwise we’ll all just be quacking at each other and no one would ever get any directions worth a damn or compliments that didn’t end in sniggering.

Visa ya ya, tired ya ya, walking out of airport ya ya. To… TO… a legion of tuk tuk's and warm sweaty air. Aaahhh this was my kind of place.

Now, I should at this point explain a little about driving in Cambodia. I guess the best way to put it is like this: it’s akin to the migration of salmon swimming upstream to get to a place to fornicate, or whatever salmon do when they get there. Now, that doesn’t seem too bad, salmon don’t shoulder barge each other and don’t have horns to honk. Well, throw four directions in there and a bear and you’re getting close. Traffic works by flinging itself at other traffic coming at the other direction and attempt to dodge them by driving on pavements and going the wrong way down the street. Personally I’ve felt OK with my safety, it’s the bikers I worry about. Whole families clumped together on two wheels with the dog, hurtling down congested roads without helmets and with the driver on the phone. This is remarkably common. Bikes are Cambodia’s life-line, and if you can even partially maneuver the bike down the road with all kinds on it, then that’s fine. One should do it. It’s your duty.

I like tuk tuks. They are open, light, nimble and cheap. Best way to see a place is in one. You’ll find if you come to visit that there’s no street a foreigner can walk down without being accosted by numerous drivers asking if you need a ride. Only trying to earn a living eh? Best thing is that they always smile, regardless of whether you say no or whatever. It’s joyous. It is said that Thailand is the land of smiles, though it is also said that Cambodia is the land of true smiles. This I couldn’t argue with. And this is why one could easily fall in love with the place.

So, perhaps you’re wondering why I went to Cambodia. And if you’re not, then don’t worry, you can go eat some hay in the barn. Permission granted Nelly. The purpose was for a review we (Carfax) were conducting on behalf of Save the Children Norway. I was careful to use word review there as evaluation requires a control sample group to provide a contextual comparison. We just wanted to look into one small area and see what people were saying about it. The review was covering the topic ‘child participation’, and one which few knew the intricacies of, but intuitively knew the fundamentals. The study was to see how the programmes put in place in around 2013 contributed to any measured outcome. SCN had/has invested in 15 countries with its participation elements, we were to look at 3 of them; South Sudan, Iraq and Cambodia. Reasons I guess being that they operate in three different areas, giving us a range to identify common patterns; South-east Asia, the Middle East and Africa.

My job was to facilitate and organise data collection, and well, look pretty. Some things just come easy.

I met my colleague I had spoken with over the past few weeks online at the hotel. It wasn’t my hotel unfortunately, as it was as usual, very late in the day when my plans were locked down and tickets bought. Quincy remarked at how tall I was, I bent over just enough so I could hear him. And that was that. Friendship sorted.

Over the next few days Quincy and I spent a lot of time in the country office. We went in shirts and tie and picked up name tags on the way in. All rather professional. Then proceeded to lock down our targets and pull them into rooms with doors to discuss what exactly we were doing there and what the country office was to do about it. This was all rather illuminating to me too. So I scribbled notes into my book to allow the others to progress through it. I knew the general thematics, but the timeline and details of SC structure I was a little more fuzzy on. My job was to facilitate the data collection. Nothing I haven’t done before.

Quincy and I spent the next few days at the office. Writing up various things. Interviewing relevant staff doing KIIs, and working on gathering our enumerator team and finding the locations for which we were to go. I briefed the team on Wednesday. We had 5 people; 2 women and 3 men. All set to leave on the Saturday towards kampong Cham and prey veng for a week of data collection.

Snag. I got for poisoned. Crap. Literally the liquid kind. What a night.

The next day I pulled myself together as good as I could. Fragile, I fell into the van and lay at the back sipping water meekly and trying not to shit myself. The countryside passed me by.

The following days I was better, and me and the team skirted around in the van visiting communities, schools and towns along the way. Two provinces; kampong cham and prey veng were our locales. The countryside was beautiful, the people looked healthy and strong and the smiles beamed across their faces as they met us.

The surveys were conducted in incredible places; under the canopy of ancient trees, In gloriously decorated pagodas, in school classrooms, in open gazebos across from praying monks. Wonderful. The children too were as courteous as you can get and they patiently participated in the activities whilst giving us their time to go through some rather dull questions. I wanted to keep one or two. But I was told I wasn’t allowed. The days rolled by and so did the miles.

My colleague Quincy had stomach issues the entire time, and when the only options are pigs anus, chili rice and weird soup, it doesn’t make any easier. Had moments where I could only eat the rice and egg as the rest was too difficult on my senses and stomach.

Mosquitoes are always a joy.

Being chased by kids around the school was fun. Being invited into the pagoda temple by some monk boys who ran to get a key. Doing art with twenty kids on a large mural. Watching the setting sun go behind the old houses along the dusty roads. Having a swarm of birds fluttering outside my door in a hotel hallway. Hitching a ride in the back of a bike because the road was blocked due to traffic works. Seeing the nicest people working for common goals and putting themselves out for us. Watching fifty school kids on bikes far too big for them cycling miles to get home along busy and dangerous roads in the hot and still have smiles. Walking in villages and hearing the sounds and seeing the people in their daily lives. The countryside.

Getting back Quincy and I were tired and yet exhilarated. This was the easy bit. The surveys, the KIIs with commune leaders and heads of CWCC interviews, the group discussions and the trip. Now to begin our write up…