Goodbyes, and a Khmer wedding

Pretty amazing to think I’ve spent approximately 22 hours sharing the same motorbike seat as someone and I’ve spoken fewer words to them, in that time, than I would speak at my regular dentist checkup. So, we didn’t really have big chats me and Yuan but we still managed to have some laughs, like the way I'd laugh as the rear-vision mirror reflected the look of horror on his face when we had a near miss and that would make him start laughing too. He’d also get a good laugh out of my feeble attempts to communicate with him in Khmer. Without conversation I was also able to get a basic understanding of what type of person he is, trustworthy, kind and considerate – he’d always check to make sure my big legs were fitting as we attempted to squeeze ourselves through a narrow gap between two cars. It's actually nice not to talk or nice not to feel compelled to fill the space. And therefore, it was a bit of a strange feeling as he dropped me off on the Friday night and I thanked him for keeping me safe and provided him with a bit of extra money. I think I’ll miss his big cheeky grin. Maybe he misses me as well as he sent me this text on Monday “Hello miss vek ky (think this is meant to be Jacqui) HOWare you? Good BY THankyou”. Now the cynical ones of us could say he was just keeping me sweet to keep some money coming in but either way, it made me smile that he’d gone to the effort. Friday night was a night of drinking (which included a cocktail that tasted like almond icing), dancing at Elsewhere (which still hasn’t closed down) and Mr Jim, our legendary Tuk Tuk driver seeing us all safely home again. My head did not seem to agree with my choice of drinks the next morning as I struggled to get myself ready for a shopping trip with one of the ladies from work. She picked me up from Lucky Supermarket and before I knew what was going on, I’d agree to go to work with her and help in the writing of a proposal. I was really in no fit state to shop, let alone work but somehow I managed to survive the day. It was actually a good experience for breaking down any remaining barriers and it gave me the opportunity to show them what I’m capable of. There were six of us working and we all went out to lunch together. It was fun to go to a real Khmer restaurant and try some different foods; I always seem to find something I really like. It also meant I got invited to a Khmer wedding they were all attending the next night – the It assistant was getting married. I’d already been invited to a friends birthday drinks but it was too good an opportunity to miss. Kalyan offered to drive me as the wedding was being held at the Brides family’s home and was quite some distance out of Phnom Penh. While I was waiting for her at our rendezvous point – the Royal Palace, a well dressed Khmer man of (I’m guessing) about 40 years of age came up to me for a chat. His English was pretty good and he asked me the usually, where I was from, how long was I in Cambodia for, who did I work for. Then he said “I would like to take you on my motorbike to go for a chat” – this was a little unnerving I have to admit. He said he was alone, his mother had died during the Khmer Rouge time and his father had died 4 years ago from what sounded like cirrhosis of the liver, there was definitely drink involved anyway. I think the poor bloke was lonely but I was pretty glad when Kalyan turned up. She’d brought her 6 year old son with her and it was just so adorable hearing him chatter away in Khmer. The wedding was a vibrant, noisy and joyous affair with lots of streamers, fake snow and fruit. The Khmer women provide most of the color through their makeup and costumes which sparkled and gleamed. Groups arrive throughout the night and get served a meal soon after they arrive – that would have to be a bit of a logistical nightmare but the 4 or 5 courses (I lost count) always arrived hot. The men stand up and do “cheers” over and over again at their individual tables. The drinks are soft or beer only and the beer is served warm with great dollops of ice. The local children wander about the wedding tent asking for the cans off the tables for which they’ll gain some cash. It’s a bit disconcerting that even at a private function you are still exposed to the scrimping for survival. When I get up to take some photos the a lady at the table next to us is very animated about something – I understand that she wants me to take her photo and she giggles with delight as I show her the end product. She then equally animatedly asks me something else and through help I understand that she wants me to have two dances with her – very specific about the two she was. The band is all Khmer and the dancing is all Khmer but music is music and you can always find a beat somewhere. They all move around the centre table that is piled high with fruit. The moves are very deliberate and the hands are the main focus. The animated woman grabbed me in the middle of dessert and dragged me up to the dance floor, she gave the MC instructions and the next thing the bands back playing again and he’s announcing to the whole wedding that I’m about to dance and that I was to lead. God, you wouldn’t want to be shy. A lovely old man kept coming up to me with his thumbs up – giving me much needed encouragement. Everywhere I looked out into the audience, as the wedding guests had now become, I saw big smiles – at least they were enjoying it. Kids laughed at me and practiced their “hallos” as I went round and round the table to a song that just wouldn’t seem to end. There were some funky Khmer songs and a few men came up and presented me with mandarins while I was dancing with my workmates to these songs. Soon the evening was over or so I thought although the animated lady thought otherwise. Instead of gifts everyone puts money into the envelopes provided for each group of guests. It was while I was trying to sort this out that she grabbed me and hauled me up to the dance floor again. She just wouldn’t take no for an answer and I had to yell behind me to Sopheak the IT guy from work to look after my stuff. We danced another song with her and her husband while he give me instructions on how to hold my hands and turn them gently at the wrists. It was enlightening although becoming less fun as I saw the MEDiCAM crew all leaving. At the end of that 8 hour song I tried to beat a retreat but she just would not let me go, physically pulling me back onto the floor. I was actually starting to feel very uncomfortable about how I was going to handle this situation. Thank goodness a friend of the lady’s came to my rescue and when I explained that I had to go as my friends were leaving without me, the animated lady finally stopped manhandling me and let me go. It reminded me of being a child at a wedding when someone’s drunk great old Aunty May wont let you go. Except in this case, the woman wasn’t drunk.