Thirty days – that is all that is left of my adventure in Cambodia, this time around anyway.
Cambodia has thrown me some curve balls in my time here. Some in the form of interesting “firsts” including three episodes of fainting, one trip to hospital, a motorbike accident, consumption of a cricket and having an IV drip put in my arm only for it to end up giving me a blood clot. And yet, something has taken hold of me and doesn’t seem to want to let go. The voice in my head is telling me it’s not time to leave, but on the other hand I'm looking forward to living in the house I bought before I left, catching up on missed time with my dear friends and riding my beautiful Pinrello again!
During the Water Festival, at the start of November, myself and a friend Mara, decided to hire a motorbike to get ourselves to Kampong Speu Province and up Kirirom Mountain. It being green, quiet, a few degrees cooler than Phnom Penh, scenically stunning (or so we’d been told) and resident to a resort and swimming pool.
The resort turned out to be disappointing, the service terrible, the food mediocre but the pool was lovely and refreshing. I ended up demonstrating to the wait staff how to make a vodka and pineapple having asked for three different cocktails on their list and being told each time “no have”.
Unfortunately the resort was the only part of Kirirom that we got to see on that trip. We came off the motorbike early the next morning halfway up the mountain. A Khmer guy was luckily standing in the vicinity and promptly lifted the bike off us and then us off the road. He then kindly (??) rubbed tiger balm into my open wounds! Thank gaud for the numbing effects of shock as it really didn’t hurt as much as tiger balm on an open wound ought to and somehow it actually ended up making the pain fade.
I lay on the side of the road for awhile until an authority from the mountain came and organized to have us and the motorbike moved to the nearest Khmer-style picnic area. In the meantime numerous cars and motos stopped and not all of them just for a gawk, no, some of the real sweeties came with offerings in their hand – you guessed it, more tiger balm! Not only was it rubbed in my wounds, it was rubbed on my forehead and temples, around my nose – I think they would have put me in a bath of it if they could have – so sweet.
Not so sweet was the guy who drove us the two minutes to the picnic area and then tried to charge us $10 for his effort.
The Mountain official organized a mini van from a nearby village to come and pick us and the motorbike up off the mountain and return us to Phnom Penh. While we waited a monk who had visited us at the crash site had rung his godfather (a doctor) to come and check us over. He spoke no English but was happy to mop up the wounds and administer three injections to me, one in each arm and one in my butt. Luckily I don’t have an issue with needles, the young Khmer boys watching the proceedings however, ran off squealing when the first shot went in. Mara wasn’t far behind them!
It was an unusual and quite unorthodox scene as two Khmer men firstly rolled me on my side, pulled down my shorts and knickers enough to expose butt cheek then proceed to pull everything back into place a bit too enthusiastically so that a wedgey ensued post the shot.
Mara thankfully made a note of the drugs being used and we confirmed later at the hospital that they were only pain killers.
The mini van trip back to Phnom Penh took three hours, our driver seeing an opportunity to make some extra cash by scouting for additional passengers at each town we went through. We soon put our “cranky-we’ve-just-had-an-accident-we-need-to-get-to-hospital-we’ve-already-paid-you-10-times-over-the-going-rate” hat on. The trip went with speed after that until we hit a road block (literally!) on the outskirts of Phnom Penh. The Phnom Penh City Council in all its wisdom had set roadblocks up all over the city to stop people entering for the Water Festival. (Thousands come from villages all over Cambodia, more than doubling Phnom Penh’s population and generally creating gridlock, mayhem and an amazing carnival atmosphere.
The officials manning the roadblock refused us entry and suggested we get a moto into town from there?? Mara knew another road to get into town so we directed the driver on that route only to get stopped once again. This time I leapt out of the van and approached the guards with all wounds exposed and pointing at my broken and gouged elbow saying I live in Phnom Penh and need to get to hospital. The highest ranking guard (I presume by the amount of pips on his uniform) nodded his assent and we proceeded through only to be stopped down the road by another roadblock. By this time both of us had become completely frayed around the edges but thankfully a Khmer speaking friend with a car had answered my desperate call for help. The relief was immense, having someone come and take control. The motorbike was bundled into a Tuk Tuk and we were whisked off to the nearest hospital. The hospital turned out to be very swish, a pleasant surprise and they looked after us brilliantly.
That was nearly a month ago now, all our wounds have healed and I only have 9 more days in my cast! It is 34 years since I was last in one and I had really forgotten how restrictive it all is although Mum and Dad were there to be at my beck and call then and I wasn’t living in constant 30+ degree heat! Mara arranged for one of the students from her University to come and help me with housework and bagging up for showers etc. And as always my friends have been awesome, taking turns at redressing my wounds, getting groceries in, cooking me meals and taking the “invalid” out. It’s all just added to my Cambodia experience.
What else?
While I was waiting for my new assignment to be sorted and confirmed I started hairdressing training with some Khmer girls who work in the salon of a friend of a friend. Its 14 years since I’ve been a hairdresser but like riding a bike you don’t forget. I thoroughly enjoyed my two mornings a week focusing on cutting techniques and customer care. The girls were such a joy to teach, readily soaking it all up. They took notes and put into practice straight away whatever new skill I taught. It’s definitely a barrier teaching students who don’t speak the same language as you but I had a lovely translator and it’s amazing how much you can transfer through gestures, sound effects and signs.
I also confirmed in recent months that I would never make a nurse. I went on a visit to the dump to assist a friend that provides medical attention to the families living there. The first task he assigned me was cleaning up the arm of a man with a wound resulting from a machete attack. I squatted on the ground while he sat in a chair and tried my best to clean the wound of congealed blood and dirt. On standing up to get more cotton wool I started to see stars and didn’t feel so good. I told my friend I was feeling sick as I made my way back to my patient but came too a few seconds later sitting in the dirt! Apart from feeling extremely sick and very spaced out, I was mortally embarrassed as all the Khmer women and children waiting for medical attention giggled away merrily. I got brave after a bottle of water and half an hour more of sitting in the dirt and started handing up plasters to the “real” volunteers, the ones not fainting.
It’s taken me almost 10 months to see my first road accident in Cambodia (actually my first ever and I would much rather have never had the experience) I was riding my bike near my home when a truck pulled out of a side street, I swerved behind the truck to avoid it but a couple (without helmets) on a motorbike decided to try and go around in front. The truck hit them and knocked them to the ground but instead of stopping the truck seemed to be still moving as the drivers legs disappeared beneath it. The woman passengers head hit the ground and bounced as the sound of metal ripping filled the air. For a second my instinct was to stop and help but then reason and my experience at the dump made me keep riding. I felt sick and guilty and with no idea what to do. Amazingly an ambulance was parked a little further down the road in preparation for some of the other calamity’s that make up Water Festival. There were lots of Khmers standing around with Red Cross shirts on and I kept asking if they spoke English until one of them did. He was calmness personified as I tried to be the same, explaining the situation while in my brain I was screaming at him to stop smiling, stop asking stupid questions and just frigging move his arse! From experience, to freak out or to show too much emotion would not have had a positive effect on this man. So I calmly answered his questions while trying to convey that haste was required. I took my queue to leave when he stopped asking questions, thanked me and wished me good luck. I’ll never know if he actually went to their aid or if they survived.
Having discussed the accident with others since, the unanimous school of thought is never, ever stop at a road accident as chances are you’ll be blamed and/or expected to pay all damages. I find this really sad and hope that some Westerner, some day, that’s braver than me will stop and hopefully save someone’s life without negative repercussions.
Being of only one arm and not being able to put my hair up I decided to visit my local market for a hair wash and braiding. It was quite an experience which involves shampoo being applied to dry hair while sitting in the chair. Water is then squirted from a bottle onto the hair to emulsify. The shampooing goes on for about 10 minutes with lots of scalp scrapping before you are moved to the basin. You’re rinsed here and there’s lots more massaging and applying of conditioner. Next is the complete wetting of the face and application of cleanser while still laying at the basin. This is followed by the dry folded towel being placed across the eyes with cold water poured on top. This is a bit shocking to the system when you’re not prepared for it but is actually really refreshing. You are taken back to your chair then and receive a 5 minute neck and shoulder massage. I also asked for a pedicure and all up it cost me $2.50!
I started with a new NGO in early October much to my delight. Once again they’re lovely people but once again there’s very little work to do. What work there is, I get done in half the time they’ve allowed – estimations are based on Khmer not Western time. Our purpose is always to build capacity but as so often happens they are more than happy for us to do the work rather than teach them how to do it. The research work I have done to pull concept notes together has been really interesting. I’ve learnt about child and women exploitation, sex and labor trafficking, selling of children by parents etc. It’s pretty harrowing when I stop to think that this is modern day Cambodia I’m reading about and is not historical.
