Literacy campaign

When I first started studying Khmer, I decided that learning to speak the language was enough, that tackling it in written form was above and beyond the call of duty. At some point a few months ago, I changed my mind.  It's been far from easy. When I began, I picked up a children's story book in a shop, and I vowed to finish reading The Ninja Cat, Dto-Dto by the end of 2014.

In his ever-so-tactful way, Meng, my long-suffering Khmer teacher, suggested that this book was quite a bit above my current reading level.  Perhaps you can understand why I was dismayed about this. It's not exactly high-brow literature.

Dto-Dto bests Mr. Wolf.  And me.

I acquiesced and purchased Little by Little, a charming picture book about a baby otter who cannot swim. My oh-so-entertaining friend, Ee Lynn, pointed out, "Well those skills will come in very handy...

Tuktuk Driver: 'I'm afraid we've lost our way, Ma'am. '

You: 'Tarka's friends splashed about and waved at him to join them, but he merely watched them shyly from the river bank.'"

In fact, I do have enough vocabulary to get the tuktuk driver back on course (and not into the river to splash and play with the otters), and it's looking like I will at least make it to the end of this epic (25-page) novel by the end of the year. I hope it ends happily, with Do-Do the otter succeeding in his quest, because a tragic drowning would be a horrible anti-climax.  

Do-Do tells his mother that Bear and Beaver are teasing him.
Mother is miffed and reminds him of his other winning traits.

Meng is quite pleased with my progress through the aptly titled Little by Little, and he suggested buying a couple more books at this level from the publisher, Sipar Books. It's an NGO, he pointed out, that supports literacy in Cambodia and publishes good books -- better than the ones typically published in the Kingdom.  One of Meng's biggest frustrations is that Cambodian stories tend to lack a plot -- they just ramble aimlessly for a certain number of pages and then end abruptly.  "They don't make any sense!" he grouses. For someone who is trying to make sense of the very foreign language in a very foreign script, a rambling, incoherent plot-line is just one more challenge I don't need.

So after a cup of coffee this afternoon, my friend Malcolm and I wandered down to Sipar, and a young man just inside the courtyard stopped us, clearly bewildered by two foreigners  walking purposefully toward the office.  I told him in Khmer that I wanted to buy children's books, and he looked relieved that we weren't in fact lost. There was a display rack in the office inside, and I found the series of books at the level of Little by Little. The label said they are for age 3 and above.  No doubt assuming I was shopping for my grandchild (great-grandchild, even?), the young clerk smilingly approved and rang up my two new purchases, and I forked over $2.75.

The red book to the left is titled The People in the Radio (I love listening to radio!), and the green one on the right is titled...  Well, to be honest, I haven't quite sorted the title out yet, because they've gone all cutesy with the font and made some of the letters look like ducks, damn them.  Is the duckling's name Gab-Gab, maybe? 

They say you revert to childishness when senility sets in.
It seems to have set in.

Outside the office, in the courtyard, though, were parked three brightly painted vans, and these really lightened my heart.  The CIA World Fact Book lists Cambodia's literacy rate at 73.9% using a very vague definition of 'literacy'. Most Khmers that I've spoken to about this say that the number of people who can read at even a barely functional level is more likely around 25%.  Therefore, Sipar's work is invaluable.

A mobile library!  Brilliant.

Sipar is a French-Khmer initiative with 20 years of history in Cambodia, and here's what they've accomplished:

• 300 school libraries
•  18  public Reading Centers
•  10 mobile libraries
•  2500 school librarians trained
• 11 reading corners in hospital
•  10 projects of communal educational services development
•  21 prison libraries
•  100 titles for young people in khmer
•  1 350 000 books were published

This mobile library promotes both literacy and
road safety, both desperately needed.

I stopped on my way home at Green-O Farms, an ostensibly organic green-grocer. (I say ostensibly because there are no standards here for organic farming, and without standards, there can be no enforcement. At least these folks are claiming to grow their produce without chemicals; their prices are not outrageous, and the quality is good.)  I set my new books down on the counter as the cashier weighed and rang up my purchases, and I noticed that the store manager was reading aloud the synopsis on the back of one of the books. He was reading slightly faster than I can, but not all that much. Remember, these books are aimed at 3 year-olds.

Thanksgiving is this Thursday, and one of the things for which I will offer up heartfelt thanks is the education I've received throughout my life, starting with my parents, who encouraged me to love reading and books as an infant, and ending with the people I meet every day here in Cambodia, who invite me to take a world-view very different from my own and remind me that kindness does not require high levels of literacy.  

As we were leaving Sipar, Malcolm and I said good-bye to the young man who had greeted us. "We are studying Khmer," Malcolm told him.  I pointed to the children's books in my hand and said, "These books are for me -- Shhhhhhhhh!"  He burst out laughing, and that really made my day.  

Playing tour guide

My dear friend, Poh Lin, came to visit the Phenomenal Penguin for five days. It was a wonderful diversion and a chance to play tourist again.  (Some of these photos are in fact Poh Lin's -- the better ones, most likely.)

We went once or twice to the Russian Market.  It's like a rabbit warren in which you can buy everything from fresh persimmons to brass knuckles.

Tailors' row

This lady is famous (in some circles) for her daikon pancakes.

Alas, neither of us was hungry, so we didn't try her radish pancakes, which she cooks over charcoal. I'll give them a try one of these days.

The Central (or New) Market is neither.

I took Poh Lin to the art-deco covered market that in English is called Central Market (though it's at the far northern end of the city) and Phsaa Thmey (New Market) in Khmer, despite the fact that it is one of the city's older markets, having been built in 1937.  Never mind. It's cool. Which is to say nifty or groovy -- like everywhere else in Phnom Penh that's not air-conditioned, it's sweltering.

The dome

At least the tall central dome gives it an airier feeling than most of the other covered markets -- it's a bit less claustrophobic. That, however, is not due to any paucity of goods for sale. If you want it and have the patience of a saint or the nose of a bloodhound, you'll find it at these markets. If it's illegal, ask, and it will probably materialise from beneath a stack of towels or children's exercise books.  

Tidy bundles of dried fish

Banana blossoms, dyed, folded and arranged for temple offerings

All the excitement left Poh Lin feeling peckish, so she cosied up to this lady who was deep-frying prawn fritters -- whole, unshelled, very small prawns in batter. Sanitation wasn't in question, because she lifted them out of the wok still sizzling.  You need to watch out for the sharp bits of the prawn, but very tasty.

"Two piece one dollah!" 

The very expensive mystery fruit

We saw a basket of these, and neither of us had any idea what they are. With my limited Khmer, I learnt from the vendor that they are a fruit, they are sweet, and they are $5/kg.  I later bought one at the Russian market, and we tried it the next morning:  The outer skin is crisp, but the inside is soft and white with a pinkish hue. Near the skin, it gives off a milky liquid. The flavour is slightly sweet, mostly bland. One of Poh Lin's friends identified it as follows:  "It's called ‘Buah Susu' in Chinese, in English: cainito, caimito, star apple, golden leaf tree, abiaba, pomme du lait, estrella, milk fruit or aguay."  I just call it over-priced.

We of course walked by the riverside, but we made a point to do so on the day before the Water Festival kicked off.  This was Cambodia's first Water Festival since 350+ were killed in a stampede in 2010; the following festival was cancelled because of King Norodom Sihanouk's death. Neither PL nor I is fond of dense crowds, but we did enjoy seeing the preparations.

Massive light displays stretched all along the river bank.

Many vendors came from around the country to sell their wares. This woman had a pushcart with every sort of snack that had ever crawled, slithered or flown. The cop on the right was just sampling her wares as it suited him. All part of his job, no doubt.

Bugs, grubs, snakes, baby birds...

Crickets roasted with chili, snakes on skewers

Poh Lin and I met my friend Malcolm at Romdeng for dinner that same evening. Romdeng is a restaurant run by graduates of Friends -- an NGO that teaches street kids the ins and outs of the restaurant business.  At Romdeng, the graduates are serving 'gourmet Khmer' food in a French colonial villa -- it's just one of Cambodia's many businesses that allow you to eat well and do good at the same time.  Romdeng is famous for its fried tarantulas, and Poh Lin ordered them straight away. But woe! They were plumb out of tarantulas that night.  She settled for a traditional beef dish with red ant sauce. ("Mmmm, peppery!")  She later read somewhere that the fried tarantula legs are crunchy and salty, as you'd expect, but the body is "greenish and mushy".  Hearing that, I turned somewhat greenish, and suddenly the lack of tarantulas at Romdeng was no longer a tragedy.  We agreed -- green and mushy is fine when you're dealing with spinach but not with spiders.

Pensive after Toul Sleng

Poh Lin toured Toul Sleng -- the genocide museum, formerly the Khmer Rouge interrogation centre, and a high school before that -- on her own, because I've been through it three times and simply couldn't bear one more.  We did a fair amount of going around the city in tuktuks, partly because PL can't bear the heat, and my broken toe is still slowing me down.  She agrees with me that the traffic may not be as thick here as it is in KL, but it's more chaotic. "They just go anywhere and everywhere! It's madness!"  I'm in awe of the tuktuk drivers. They are, almost without exception, patient, calm and competent. Unfortunately, given the very high prices of petrol here in Cambodia, the costs of getting around by tuktuk add up fast. They'll remain my last resort, following my feet, my bicycle and the Monivong Avenue bus.