If there had been no genocide - a fiction (chapter 2-2)

Chapter 2-2 - Brain Tumor 

Noticing his sons approaching in the rear-view mirror, Veayuk’s father hurriedly wiped the tears from his face with the black woolen handkerchief his wife had knitted for him when they first fell in love. The handkerchief, which had almost lost its original color, was indeed older than his oldest daughter. It symbolized a token of their love and represented their times together. He could afford to lose his watch, but not to lose that precious handkerchief. Once he almost lost the handkerchief in an Italian restaurant along the Chaktomuk River. He was having dinner with his fiancée, Veayuk’s mother, on the third anniversary of their first chance encounter. Veayuk’s father had well-cooked Bistecca alla Fiorentina with a glass of Montepulciano d'Abruzzo from the Abruzzo region of east-central Italy. His mother had Fettuccine Alfredo with a glass of white Albana di Romagna. When the waiter cleared their table, they decided to skip dessert. Instead, Veayuk’s father ordered a cup of black coffee for himself and a cup of hot tea for his fiancée. After finishing their after-dinner drinks, Veayuk’s father asked the waiter to check their bill. It was then that his handkerchief inadvertently dropped from his pocket to the floor.

 The couple walked beside one another, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, out of the restaurant toward the riverfront, enjoying the night view of the city. The Royal Palace was beautifully lit, with orange lights sparkling every half meter along the fence and rooftops. Their light reflected into the water, creating a breathtaking scene.

 “What are you looking for?” Veayuk’s mother asked her fiancée after noticing him checking his pockets.

 “Uh,” Veayuk’s father hesitated, reluctant to tell her that he was missing her hand-knitted gift.

 “Can you tell me what you are looking for?” Veayuk’s mother asked worriedly. “Maybe I can help.”

 Veayuk’s father rechecked all of his pockets, but eventually became convinced that the handkerchief was not to be found. “I think I’ve lost your handkerchief.”

 “My handkerchief?” Veayuk’s mother repeated. “Are you sure that you brought it with you?”

 “Yes, I did. I used it to wipe my brow this evening before I left the house.”

 “Could it be at the restaurant?”

 “I’m not sure. But I know I didn’t take it out or put it on the table. Of that I am sure.”

 “Don’t worry about it. I can knit you another one.”

 “No, it’s not about the handkerchief. It’s about the token of our love. I can’t afford to lose it. It is valuable to me.”

 “Maybe we should look around this area. It could be somewhere near here.”

 After walking and searching for a little while, neither of them could locate the handkerchief. Beads of perspiration began to appear on the forehead of Veayuk’s father. “We should return to the restaurant and check,” he suggested.

 “If that’s what you want, let’s do it.” Veayuk’s mother held the arm of her fiancée as they walked back to the restaurant.

 “Have you seen a black woolen handkerchief with a name on it?” Veayuk’s father asked the host at the restaurant.

 “I’m not sure, sir,” the host politely replied. “Let me ask my colleagues if they have seen it. May I ask at what table you sat?”

 “We were at that table over there about an hour or so ago,” replied Veayuk’s father, pointing to a table in the corner.

 “Please wait a moment, sir. I will go and check with my colleagues who were in charge of that station.”

 “Thank you very much.”

 “Please have a seat, sir and madam.”  The host, who was wearing a black suit, left the front desk and went into a room marked “Staff Only.” A moment later, the host appeared with a handkerchief in his right hand. “Is this your handkerchief, sir?” The host smiled as he displayed the handkerchief.

 “Yes, it is,” Veayuk’s father was delighted to see the handkerchief he had lost. “Where did you find it?”

 “My colleague who served your table noticed it on the floor when he was clearing the table. Unfortunately, you and madam had already left.”

 “Thank you very much, and please convey my thanks to your colleague. We really appreciate that.”

 “Our pleasure, sir. May you have a good evening, sir and madam.”

 “Thank you,” Veayuk’s father and mother said in unison as they left the restaurant. Ever since then, Veayuk’s father has taken very good care of his wife’s handkerchief. Never once has he left it unattended.

 Veayuk’s father quickly composed himself to appear normal in the presence of his children. Veayuk opened the passenger door and let his younger brother climb inside. Both of them settled in the back seat. They were talking and laughing as usual, ignoring their father as he drove home. They had even forgotten to greet their father, as was their normal routine.

“Sons, I have something to tell you,” he said to Veayuk and Puthi, his eyes reddened from crying. 

“Yes?” Veayuk and Puthi said in unison.

With difficulty, their father uttered the words, “Your mother is seriously ill.” Veayuk did not reply at all, while Puthi abruptly broke into tears.

“Ma,” Puthi cried out. “I want to see Ma.”

“Shh! Don’t cry,” Veayuk said as he consoled his younger brother in his arms. “She will be fine.”

If there had been no genocide - a fiction (Chapter 2-1)

 Chapter 2-1 - Brain Tumor 

“Son!” Veayuk’s father called out, tapping his hand gently. “Are you okay?” Awakened from his reverie, Veayuk quickly replied, “I am fine.” His face paled, his vision blurred and dizziness was swirling in his head. Veayuk shook his head and blinked his eyes several times to recover from the sudden faint feeling.

“Are you still thinking about that dream of yours?” Veayuk’s father asked in a concerned manner, as lines of wrinkles creased his forehead.

“No,” Veayuk said haltingly, turning his face away from his father, in fear of being caught in a lie. “I was thinking about other things.”

“Are you sure?” his father probed further.

“Yes, I sure am,” Veayuk confirmed, nodding for emphasis.

“Are you hungry?” his father asked, as noon was approaching.

“Not very much, Dad,” Veayuk replied. He had no appetite. “How about you, Dad, are you hungry?”

“A bit. But we can wait until the train stops at Chhlong.” Veayuk nodded. Silence fell between father and son. Each was immersed in his own thoughts, and neither could detect what the other was thinking.

Is dad thinking about mom? This thought suddenly struck Veayuk. He had never considered the question before. How much does he love mom? He rarely talks about her since the day she passed away. Veayuk shook his head again, trying not to think about anything. Veayuk’s father was a private person. He kept his true feelings and opinions reserved and hidden from everyone. Never once had he opened his heart to his children. He habitually shouldered every possible burden by himself. However, being too private could be detrimental to a family relationship. He had distanced himself from his children, regardless of how many sacrifices he had made on their behalf. Veayuk had no way to surmise his father’s affection for his mother. Nevertheless, of one thing he was sure—his father had never talked about other women since his mother had passed.

Two years ago, Veayuk’s mother was suffering from a brain tumor. For a very long time, she had been bothered by constant headaches and unexplained nausea, which had led to vision problems. Her vision was blurred but she was reluctant to see a doctor, despite the persistent persuasion of her family. She always found excuses, saying that she had developed a headache because she was tired. She told her husband not to worry about her and assured him that she would be fine.

Veayuk’s mother always avoided doctor visits.  She felt that her illness would worsen after seeing a doctor. Neither Veayuk nor his siblings knew the reason behind this feeling of hers. Presumably, Veayuk’s father knew, but he never mentioned any explanation. Sometimes, when the pain became unbearable, Veayuk’s mother would urge her cousin, who was a doctor, to prescribe medication for her headaches or nausea.  According to law, a pharmacist is prohibited from selling medicine to patients without a prescription, unless the illness is not very serious. Nevertheless, the “not-very-serious” term was not clearly defined, and the root cause of her illness had not been properly determined, which left a gap of misunderstanding. Were her headaches serious or not serious?

A pharmacist caught selling medicine to a patient without a prescription from a certified doctor would be fined by law. In the worst case, the state could confiscate his license and close down his business. Consequently, most pharmacists were reluctant to offer any medicine to patients without a prescription, even if the person claimed they merely had a headache or the flu. Actually, healthcare in Cambodia is not very expensive. Most people receive a substantial subsidy from the government when they go to the hospital, especially civil servants like Veayuk’s father. Moreover, healthcare facilities are very modern and competitive with neighboring countries like Thailand.

Before long, the health condition of Veayuk’s mother had worsened. The prescription issued by her cousin only improved her condition for a very short time. When the medicine wore off, she again began to experience difficulty hearing. One day she was making her husband’s favorite dishes of stir-fried ginger with beef and hot and sour soup with freshwater fish for lunch when she collapsed on the floor, passing out. Fortunately, she had not yet turned on the gas stove; otherwise, the incident could have been much more serious. She was home alone at the time—her husband was at school teaching, her oldest daughter was at the hospital, the second brother was at his university, and Veayuk and his younger brother were attending class at school.

When Veayuk’s father returned home for lunch, he found his wife lying on the floor in their kitchen, clad in a dark gray cardigan. Crushed cloves of garlic were scattered around—half on the floor, half on the table. A knife, sliced beef, fish, onions, scallions, lime, and other ingredients were on the table next to a frying pan and pot. Veayuk’s father rushed her to the nearby hospital, an attractive two-story concrete building situated on a sizeable lot. East of the hospital was a small park with a man-made pond. Every morning, each patient would sit in his or her balcony to bask in the mild morning sunlight and enjoy the view of the park.

The doctor informed Veayuk’s father that his wife’s condition was advanced and would be difficult to treat. The terrible news pierced his heart like the impact of a sharp object. All the doctor could do was delay her last breath for a few more days. When Veayuk’s mother regained consciousness, she cried out for relief from the severe pain afflicting her entire body. She was shaking like a bird soaked by the night rain, cold and helpless. Her world was trembling.

With tears in his eyes, Veayuk’s father begged the doctor to relieve her pain. He couldn’t bear to see her crying like a wounded animal, struggling to escape from a predator. The doctor gave her an injection to stabilize her condition and induce sleep. At least she was feeling relief for the moment. After she fell into a slumber, Veayuk’s father and the doctor left the room and the doctor excused himself to go check on other patients. Before he left, he assigned a nurse to look after Veayuk’s mother and immediately report to him if there were any issues. Veayuk’s father thanked the doctor and sat down on a chair next to the door of her room.

As soon as the doctor walked away, Veayuk’s father began crying hopelessly. The woman he loved mightily with all his heart would soon be departing the life she shared with him and their children. He wasn’t able to cope with the idea of her leaving them so soon and so suddenly.  He could not imagine life without her and selfishly wanted to hold onto her, in spite of the fact that she was suffering great pain. He was unsure how to explain his feelings to his children, who would soon be returning home from school and expecting to see their mother. It was difficult to imagine a family reunion without her.

Should he tell his children that their mother is on a very long leave from home to cure her illness? He thought to himself. Would they believe him and accept his explanation? What if they asked to visit their mother where she was supposedly staying? Could he continue to lie to them?

Thinking about his children caused him further heartache, as if a sharp nail was piercing his chest to suck out his blood. The pain was unbearable and inexplicable. As his world became hauntingly dark and cloudy, he felt as if he would collapse at any moment. He was broken. Pressing his palms together, Veayuk’s father prayed for a miracle to save his wife, hoping that God would hear his prayer. He then entered a telephone booth near the hospital entrance, dialed his office number, and explained to his colleague about his wife’s serious condition. He requested coverage for a few days while he remained at the hospital.

Viewed through the transparent window, Veayuk’s mother appeared very pale. Her face was emotionless and exhausted, with no flush of color. She seemed to have aged ten years since the moment she fell unconscious. As she lay in bed, she seemed to have lost her purpose in life. Her will to survive had gradually slipped away and she could no longer hold on to life. Her time had come…her karma was determined. The God of Death was calling her to join him and she was destined to do so.

As his wife rested in her hospital bed, Veayuk’s father left to pick up his sons from school, which was his usual routine. He made a right turn and slipped into heavy early-evening traffic, full of commuters leaving work and school. There were no motorbikes in the capital, only bicycles. Regulations restricted motorbikes to the outskirts of the city in order to minimize traffic accidents, traffic jams, and pollution. On the other hand, the mayor had increased the availability of public transportation such as buses and trains to accommodate the increasing demand of city residents. The capital had expanded in the last five years as a result of an influx of people from all over the country for education, work, trade, and tourism.

The sun was setting along the Chaktomuk River, which literally means the Four Faces River. This river merges with the Mekong and Tonle Sap Rivers in front of the Royal Palace. The setting sun illuminated every rooftop, tree, flower, road, river, and boat, creating a golden landscape as beautiful as a painting made with painstaking strokes. With his left hand on the steering wheel, Veayuk’s father reached out his right hand to turn on the car radio, and George Michael’s 1984 single, “Careless Whisper,” was in its second verse. This song was very popular in the West as well as in Cambodia. Following Careless Whisper was the 1983 release of “Club Tropicana,” from the album Fantastic by British pop duo Wham!. Finally, Herman Hupfeld’s 1931 version of “As Time Goes By” filled the airwaves. Though he could not appreciate the full meaning of the songs, the soothing music put Veayuk’s father at ease for the time being. At home, he usually listened to Sin Sisamuth, Soh Matt, Mol Kamach, Ros Sereysothea, or Pen Ran, the popular 1960s-70s Cambodian pop singers. He owned most of their record albums. Ms. Ros Sereysothea, born in 1948, was his wife’s favorite singer. Her song, Penh Chet Te Bang Muoy, meaning “Only You That I Love,” always captured her heart. With a pot of steaming jasmine tea and Chinese biscuits, the two of them would usually sit side by side on the couch every Saturday evening after dinner and listen to the national radio program airing 1960s-70s rock’n’roll until late into the night.

Foreign music found its way to Cambodian ears mostly through foreign trade, particularly with America, France and the rest of Europe. The music became popular in Phnom Penh nightclubs and so Cambodian musicians started to incorporate foreign music trends into their songs to appeal to young audiences. Music classes popped up like mushrooms throughout the city, offering lessons on drums, guitar, and vocals, to name a few. The young generation of the time became infatuated with music and being able to play a guitar and sing songs in English made a man look cool.

After the success of Drakkar Band, which was formed in 1967, many groups of musicians formed bands. There were four members in Drakkar— two guitarists, one drummer, and one bassist. Their songs, mostly about youthful love, were influenced by the Latin rock of Santana as well as U.S. hard rock bands. Among the musicians, Mol Kamach was Veayuk’s favorite—especially his song Chuob Knea Pi Nak, which means “When We Both Were Together.” Mol Kamach had a sweet and enchanting voice—the kind of voice one never tired of listening to—and always reached the hearts of his fans. The more you listened to his music, the more you wanted. It was like an addiction, and every time Veayuk played Mol Kamach’s collection of songs, he would press the rewind button on his Sony Walkman so he could listen repeatedly.

About half an hour later, Veayuk’s father reached his sons’ high school. Veayuk and his youngest brother, Puthi, which means ‘knowledge’ in English, were standing next to the school gate along Norodom Boulevard under a big trabek prey tree, a rare crepe myrtle with pink flowers all along its branches. As he parked and waited in front of the school gate, two kids, hand in hand, strolled past his car. They were talking about something funny and he could detect wide grins on their tiny faces. Seeing them reminded him of his children. Would they be able to smile and lead a normal life if their mother were away on a very long leave? Veayuk’s father mused further. Someone said, ‘The secret of happiness is having something to do, something to look forward to, and someone to love.’ Will I be able to find happiness in the future? Unable to find adequate answers to his questions, tears began streaming down his face again. His body felt unnatural. His brain was malfunctioning like a car that stopped when its owner shifted gears and accelerated when the brake was pressed. Though he was lost in grief, the world continued to move forward and would not stop to wait for him to recover.

Veayuk spotted his father’s car from a distance. With his right hand slung over Puthi’s shoulder like comrades-in-arms, Veayuk led his younger brother toward their father. Veayuk loved his brother very much and took Puthi along with him everywhere. Veayuk was two years older than Puthi and tried to protect his younger brother from any bullying. Because of Veayuk’s athletic accomplishments and sturdiness, not many people in school dared bully Puthi, the brother of the school’s superstar.

“Dad’s car is over there,” Veayuk pointed to the car parked nearby. “Are you hungry, kiddo?”

“I’m starving, brother,” Puthi responded, hands holding his stomach. “How about you? But…”

“I’m starving too,” Veayuk said, smiling at Puthi. “Today’s practice used up all of my energy. I wonder what mom is making for dinner?”

“But what?” Veayuk continued, remembering that he had interrupted Puthi.

“But, could you stop calling me ‘kiddo,’ please?” Puthi looked straight into Veayuk’s eyes.

“Why? You are only a 13-year-old kid!” Veayuk mocked him.

“And you are a 15-year-old kid!” Puthi fired back at him. “Should I call you ‘kiddo’ too?”

“No, I’m not,” Veayuk replied. “I’m not 15.”

“Yes, you literally are,” Puthi continued challenging Veayuk. “In case you forgot, check your birth certificate!”

“Alright, I’m 15. But I don’t look or think like a 15-year-old.  Remember I’m a member of the adult volleyball team. Don’t you know that! So, I’m not kid like you.”

“So you are an old kid!” Puthi laughed.

“Whatever, kiddo!”

“Please, brother, stop calling me ‘kiddo,’  Puthi begged wth a pitiful look in his eyes.

“Why?” Veayuk inquired. “Why don’t you want me to call you ‘kiddo?’ What is wrong with that term?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that word. I just don’t like it. It makes me look weak when my classmates hear you call me that,” Puthi explained.

“Ha ha, I see,” Veayuk laughed at his brother.

“I haven’t finished yet,” Puthi continued. “Another thing is that I want to be like you. Most kids at school respect you, despite your young age.”

“So, you want them to respect you too, don’t you?” Veayuk repeated after his brother.

“Yes,” Puthi nodded, peering into his brother’s eyes.

“But why?”

“I don’t know why. I just feel happy when someone shows respect to me. Don’t you feel the same way?”

“Puthi,” Veayuk said with a serious look. “It’s not about me calling you ‘kiddo’ and causing others to disrespect you. Even if I stopped calling you ‘kiddo,’ do you think people would automatically start to show respect for you?”

“I don’t know,” Puthi said.

“It’s about you,” Veayuk reassured his brother. “It’s about your behavior and your actions towards others. If you show them that you deserve their respect, people will voluntarily show respect for you despite your young age. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

“Kind of,” Puthi said, still trying to decipher what his brother just said.

“Good, kiddo,” Veayuk said with a smile.

“Bro!” Puthi exclaimed.

“I’m kidding. Let’s go. Dad is waiting,” Veayuk pointed to his car parked by the corner.

If there had been no genocide - a fiction (chapter 1)

Chapter 1 - Daydream

Dad, I just had a daydream, Veayuk said, worriedly sharing his thoughts as the two of them traveled by train from Phnom Penh to his fathers hometown in Mondulkiri Province in northeastern Cambodia. It was late 1987, and Veayuk was 15 years old. The rice fields were taking on a golden hue and the seasonal winds were becoming more apparent. Soon the harvest season would get underway, and the fields would be filled with people young and old, all smiling in anticipation of a considerable rice yield.

As a Khmer, Veayuk knew that his name referred to the king of the wind in his native language. His mother hoped that he would grow up to be strong and free, and thus she named him after the wind. Every Khmer name has significance, and most parents believe an auspicious name will shape the fortune and future of their child. For instance, Samnang means luck, while Chey denotes victory or success. Whenever a Cambodian child is born, the parents visit a Buddhist pagoda so that a monk can select a name for their child, usually with consideration given to their birth date.

Veayuk had a dark complexion, with prominent dark brown eyes and curly haira reflection of the ancient Khmer people. He enjoyed good nutrition and had grown exceptionally tall compared to other kids his age. He was as fast as the wind. Strangers sometimes mistook him for a young adult of twenty years. One of his friends always teased him by saying, Veayuk! A kid with an old face!  Veayuk never minded the teasing. After all, it was just a joke by a good friend who had no bad intentions. The other students dared not mock him, however, given his size and maturity.

Veayuks athletic prowess led him to be invited to join an adult volleyball team last year, when he was just fourteen years old. Though he didnt really enjoy the sport, he tried his best in practice because he was determined to master every technique. Whenever Veayuk set his mind on something, he would always work to the best of his ability. His discipline at volleyball practice eventually resulted in his defeat of many talented players in school. Ultimately, the coach assigned him as team captain, which caused both admiration and jealousy among his schoolmates. The girls adored him, but the boys were jealous. To deal with the boys, he remained humble and tried to be helpful to them. The girls were his faithful fans, though, and he never did anything to discourage their attention. 

The trip to Mondulkiri Province marked Veayuks first visit to his fathers hometown and followed two years after his mother had passed away. In fifteen years’ time, Veayuk had never set foot in the town where his father had been born. Living in the capital of Phnom Penh, Veayuk had only been able to visit his mothers hometown in Kandal Province, which is about twenty kilometers from the capital. 

The distance between Phnom Penh and Mondulkiri Province is about 370 kilometers, with the route passing through the provinces of Kandal, Kampong Cham, and Kratie. The trip takes about two hours by helicopter or eight hours by train. Historically, Mondulkiri was part of Kratie Province, but in 1960, King Norodom Sihanouk created the province of Mondulkiri. Mondul means center, and kiri means mountain. Therefore, Mondulkiri literally means the center of the mountains, which aptly describes this area of high elevation. Most residents of the province are indigenous Phnong who believe in animism and practice slash-and-burn farming. They earn a living through the resources of the forest and live as a community under the supervision of an elder clan chief, speaking their own language and preparing meals from their homegrown vegetables.

After Mondulkiri Province was officially created, the majority Khmer population in Cambodia began relocating to this province. Intermarriage between Khmer and Phnong became commonplace and Veayuks father himself had a Phnong mother and Khmer father. The couple had several hectares of farmland in the provincial town of Sen Monorom and raised seven children, five sons and two daughters. Veayuks father was the sixth child in the family.

Unlike most Phnong families, Veayuks grandparents were quite liberal. They valued education and had sent Veayuks father to the capital so that he could pursue his education. Veayuks father was about seven years old when he first came to live with his paternal uncle in Phnom Penh. Before long, Veayuks father had forgotten most of the Phnong language which had been taught to him by his mother.

After graduating from high school, Veayuks father took an exam to apply to a pedagogy school in Phnom Penh. Eventually, he was appointed to teach at Preah Sisowath High School in the capital. The school, named after a Khmer king, was founded in 1873 as a middle school, but in 1933 began providing both middle and high school education. It was at Preah Sisowath High School that Veayuks father and mother met each other as teacher and student. On the first day of a new semester, they discovered one another and the power of love bound their hearts together. They married as soon as she graduated and eventually had four children, one daughter and three sons.

Just now, the train was passing vast fields of rubber plantations stretching handsomely along the horizon under a clear blue sky in Kampong Cham Province. Soon the train would make a short stop in the Chhlong District of Kratie Province before moving on to Mondulkiri. The train from Phnom Penh to Mondulkiri is a mid-speed train, running between 50 and 70 kilometers per hour. The eight-hour trip from Phnom Penh to Mondulkiri has eight stops—one in Kandal, three in Kampong Cham, two in Kratie, and two in Mondulkiri. There are faster trains in Cambodia, which run between 80 and 100 kilometers per hour. However, they usually run on the shorter routes from Phnom Penh to nearby provinces such as Kandal, Kampong Cham, or Kampong Chhnang.

What did you dream about? Veayuks father inquired, looking directly into his sons eyes. Every time he looked at Veayuk, he saw a reflection of himself. Among all of his sons, Veayuk resembled him the most. Like father, like son! The only difference between them was that Veayuks father had developed a beer belly as a result of his comfortable life, which included a job, a car, a house with a small garden, a wife, and four children. His wife ran a small business at home, sewing clothes, particularly school uniforms. Three years ago, their eldest daughter had married a doctor at Preah Ket Mealea Hostpital, where she worked as a nurse. They planned to have their first child next year. For the present, family planning was their primary consideration because having a child would require a sizeable investment to cover expenses for food, education, healthcare, insurance and clothing, all of which would be required to secure a bright future for the child. His second son was pursuing his third year in mathematics at the Royal University of Phnom Penh and hoped to become a schoolteacher like his father. His two other sons, the third and the fourth, attended high school and middle school, respectively.

Established in 1964, Royal University of Phnom Penh is the country's largest university. It offers undergraduate and postgraduate degrees in various fields such as the sciences, humanities and social sciences, as well as vocational courses in the fields of information technology, electronics, psychology and tourism. In addition to the Royal University of Phnom Penh, other major universities and institutes include the National Institute of Judicial and Economic Studies, Royal School of Medicine, National School of Commerce, National Pedagogical Institute, Faculty of Letters and Human Sciences, Royal University of Fine Arts and Faculty of Science and Technology. During the 1960s, education was one of the primary goals for development set by the Cambodian government. Everyone valued education, and competing with other countries in the region required that the population be educated.

Veayuks father believes that education has the power to improve ones standard of living and thus lead to future success. As a teacher, he is aware that knowledge has a transformative power, enabling people to devise solutions to all kinds of problems. On the contrary, the ability of uneducated people to understand and exercise their rights always remains limited.

“Oh, it was nothing, Dad, just a dream, Veayuk sighed as he turned to his right to gaze out the window. Rows of rubber trees were still visible. An occasional flock of birds flew over the treetops, freely heading for an unknown destination, living the life nature intended for them. Uncharacteristically, Veayuk was bothered by his dream. Here and there, workers appeared between the rows of rubber trees. They seemed to be inspecting somethingsomething Veayuk had no desire to explore. Maybe he would pursue his curiosity about that on another day.

In Cambodia, latex is collected from rubber trees and then sent to factories where it is transformed into useful materials including auto tires, spare parts, kitchenware, shoes, toys, water tubes, and other products in order to supply local demand. The remaining latex is shipped to Vietnam or China through the port of Sihanoukville. Foreign trade is an important element of Cambodias economy as the country strives to elevate the standard of living of its citizens.  

With his chin resting on his palms, Veayuk was lost in thought. He always believed that a bad dream would come true if he revealed it to others. He couldnt remember when he first heard that belief, but the superstition was one in which he still believed. Therefore, he kept the terrible dream to himself in fear that it might one day become reality.

Veayuk had dreamed that his house in the capital had been burgled while his father was visiting another province. Only Veayuks two brothers and eldest sister were home, each asleep in their room. On that particular night, Veayuk was doing homework at his desk, which was lit by a table lamp on his right. He was preparing for a test the following day. His room was rectangular, and the wall, bed sheet, blanket, and pillowcase were sky-blue in color. A thick, cotton curtain in the same shade of blue hung from the window facing east. The curtain was drawn closed, preventing the morning sunlight from pouring into the room.

Next to his bed were a wooden desk and an armchair, both of which were matte black. A box of pencils and a rubber eraser were neatly placed on the desk next to a family photo in a wooden frame. The photo pictured six peoplefour males and two females. It had been taken during a trip to the mountains. The family members were wearing casual dress—jeans, short pants, and t-shirts. Smiles could be distinguished on their faces. Indeed, they appeared happy and carefree. 

A yellow Sony Walkman cassette player, a gift from Veayuks grandparents on his tenth birthday, sat on the left side of the desk. Veayuk liked listening to music, even though he had no singing ability and didnt like the sound of his own voice. God grants you one talent and keeps another from you, he always thought. He couldnt be skilled at two things at the same timesports and music. In rare cases, some people could excel at multiple talents, but not Veayuk.

Against his desk leaned a Japanese-made Yamaha tennis racket. Tennis was Veayuks favorite sport, apart from volleyball. He and his paternal uncle went to the Olympic Stadium every Sunday evening to play tennis. Veayuk learned to play tennis when he was eleven years old, and that Yamaha racket had been given to him at that time by his uncle.

The Olympic Stadium had been designed by architect Vann Molyvann. The ground-breaking ceremony took place in 1963 and construction was completed in 1964. Vann made use of massive earthworks to create the stadium by excavating 500,000 cubic meters of earth to shape the site. The stadium played a small role in the 1966 FIFA World Cup when, unpredictably, North Korea faced Australia in qualifying matches in November of 1965. Because North Korea lacked diplomatic relations with most countries, finding a suitable venue for the match proved difficult until Cambodian Head of State Prince Sihanouk, an ally of Kim Il-sung, agreed to host the matches in Phnom Penh. The matches attracted 40,000 fans, half cheering the Australian team and the other half cheering North Korea. North Korea won both matches (61 and 31). Because South Korea and all the African teams had withdrawn in protest against FIFA, North Korea directly qualified for the final tournament, in which they reached the quarterfinal round

Veayuk was uncertain about his future, but occasionally he fantasized about being a national volleyball player or tennis player. He was still young and filled with dreams to explore. At fifteen years of age, he had not seen much of the world and was far too young to determine what he wanted out of life. For him, that goal was a long way off. Who knows? I might want to be a teacher like my father in the future, Veayuk once thought to himself.

Beside his desk was a five-tier bookshelf full of all kinds of books including textbooks, novels, dictionaries, and comic books, in both the Khmer and English languages. Among all the novels on his bookshelf, William Goldmans 1973 The Princess Bride and Dalton Trumbos 1938 Johnny Got His Gun were his all-time favorites. Those two novels were always kept on the top shelf.

A dark closet with two doors stood against the wall, two steps to the left of the bookshelf. A full-length mirror was installed on the right door of the closet, but Veayuk rarely took a close look at his bodya body that caused him to feel both shy and proud at times. A blue, medium-sized, locally-made electric fan was whirring away at the foot of the bed. The air blew from left to right and then right to left behind Veayuk, providing the only source of fresh air to keep the room at a comfortable temperature.

The night was dark, but the sky was filled with twinkling stars. The neighbors were enjoying a pleasant nights sleep. Out of nowhere, a group of four armed burglars stormed into his house from the rear. They had pulled up in a locally-reassembled black sedan. All of them were dressed completely in blackblack hats, black masks, black shirts, black trousers, black shoes, holding a black HK USP 9mm in their black leather glovesresembling the Man in Black in The Princess Bride, except for the sword. Their heights were similar56 tall. They looked identical. Their dark brown eyes were menacing, as if they were prepared to harm anyone they perceived as a threat.

In Cambodia, the law forbids ordinary citizens from carrying a gun, and law enforcement is rather strict about this rule. Anyone who breaks the law faces legal punishment. Yet criminals can always find clever ways to break the law. Within a few seconds, the burglars had successfully and professionally unlocked the back door. Their skills at this maneuver had been honed over their many years in this business. Two of them guarded the door.  With flashlights in hand, the remaining two made their way into the house.

Veayuk had been blessed with an acute sense of hearing. He could detect even the lowest sound unheard by most people with normal hearing. He immediately realized that something unusual was going on at the back of the house so he followed the noise, carefully walking in that direction. Veayuk was present but physically invisible to the others. He could walk around the house undisturbed and observe the actions of the burglars, but he could not scream, talk or make any other sound. He hurriedly ran to his older brothers room to rouse him from a sound sleep and tell him about the burglary. His knock was not heardhis voice made no soundhis mouth went dry. Surprisingly, he made his way through the entrance and entered the room without having to open the door; if he had managed to open the door, the burglars would immediately have known that somebody in the house was awake. Veayuk tried to shake his brother, yet he felt no sense of touching him. His hands moved right through his brothers chest to his back. He was dumbfounded. He then ran to his sisters room, next door. Astonishingly, he was able to walk through the wall once again.

What was going on? Veayuk pondered the question, trying to assign meaning to everything that was happening. The prospect of being invisible and the ability to walk through walls haunted him. He tried to rouse his sister from her deep sleep by shaking her. No use. No movement. No sign of awakening. Veayuk gave up trying to wake his siblings and went to check his youngest brother, who was also in a deep sleep.

Soundlessly, the burglars entered his fathers bedroom and stole his mothers earrings and necklaces—which had been wedding gifts from her parents and relatives—from her bedside drawer. Veayuk cried helplessly as he observed the scene. He was in a confused state. The burglars had successfully stolen his mothers beloved jewelry and escaped toward the east, where the morning sun would later rise. Veayuk sat down on the back porch and began to cry.

What should I tell dad about this incident when he returns? What should I do if he is unable to see me, as were my brothers and sister? I became invisible and my voice went mute. Who can see me and hear me now? Mom, are you able to see me and touch me? I miss you.

The neighborhood was dreadfully quiet—no dogs barking, no traffic passing, and no indication of human life. It was like a ghost town. Veayuk continued to weep.

Phnom Penh is unusually quiet

Phnom Penh, the Capital of Cambodia, has been unusually and unanimously quiet these few days after the incident took place along her neighbor on 24 July.

No sound of music can be detected from the neighbors. Unlike the usual time, loud music and karaoke would competitively play across the neighborhood.

It seems her feelings are with those, who tirelessly and sleeplessly, protecting their motherland.

News is flying everywhere from every corners, overwhelming and intimidating the citizens. What can be trusted and can't be trusted become a mess. In time of chaos, people pick and choose what they want to believe or resonate to them. It seems everyone is in a hurry to pick news up and move forward with their individual judgement. Trying to explain would end up confrontation if it is seen as contradicting their perception. How could one remedy its wrong move afterwards?

Up in the sky, the sun seems shy to show his face to light up the universe, leaving the cloud gray and dull. The capital looks confused, what about the border areas! Stay strong and bright for there we send our support and prayers!

The last time I checked

My heart was trembling when I was running around looking for you as every passenger was waiting impatiently at the boat docking at the temporary pier.

My heart was pounding against my broken chest while I was catching my breath, running. My eyes were fixed on everyone I passed by. Though my eyes did not cry, but my heart did, calling for you to show up. Maybe at that moment, we might reunite. Yet, you did not show up. I had texted you and you did not bother to check your phone and reply. Under the hot sun, sweat rolled down just like my crying heart. I gave up, at that moment, I gave up looking for you. You might be back in the boating, sitting and mending your mood. God, I was so heartbreaking and relieved that you were safe, putting an ice-cold water bottle on your forehead to reduce the heat. I took deep breath as I catched my breath.

I got on the boat, remained calm, did not say anything that might be out of anger, and handed you the bandage for the cut on your index finger because of breaking your phone's protected screen. You did not talk to me and tossed the bandage I had asked from the tour guide for you earlier. You ignored me. I did not say anything. I did not want to make what already hot hotter. I did not talked to you for I wanted you to remain calm, and now we did not talk to each other.

How could you be so cruel, so determined? How could you be so focused on your own mood? Was taking photos more important than us spending time together at this island and making memories? How could you forget what was the meaning of planning this trip all together?

I was helpless to be left alone and maybe I was not good enough for a relationship after all. I need to think about my future plan again, a plan that I will enjoy alone eventually.

And now, the last time I checked we are no longer together.

A Dream

"Do you miss me?" I whispered to myself. Most people said if you dreamed about something it meaned that the person was missing you and appeared in your dream. 

I dreamed about you last weekend. In my dream, we were not close, or we wanted to be close, but something pulled us back. We were at somewhere foreign to us. It was somewhere like a fishing community by a sea. The facilities were weathered and rusty. The structure was not sturdy. I could hear cracking sound when I stepped on the uneven, wooden floor. Some part of the hut was above the sea. I could see the wave from the tiny holes in the floor.

It was in the evening. The sun was no where to be found. Yet, it was not too dark that we could not see each other's face. We were getting ready for dinner. I was about to take a shower and you, suddenly, walked past me talking to a person. So I walked to the nearby hut, where you had walked in, to say hi. I poked my head into the hut for it had no door. I saw you taking a bath, naked. I remembered immediately your figure and shape - a body I had caressed and touched. A nostalgic memory flashed into my head. I was lost for a moment before you asked me if I was looking for something.

I was awakened yet stung. You acted that you had not seen me around here before, but your eyes, that pair of eyes, were different. They were soft and comforting as if I were fine. You looked around and I saw another person. I then excused myself and walked away. 

Sadly, I was awakened from my dream. I was regretted that I could not even give you a hug in the dream, for I desperately wanted to do in real life. I hoped you have been fine.

It was two a.m now. I could not get back to sleep. My body was exhausted but not my head. I lied down in bed with earphones in my head, thinking about you and us. The night was silent. The neighbors' dogs were all asleep. I could not hear their bark. The road, too, was quiet not even the sound of vehicle engine. Silence conquered the night. With the repeated music in my ears, it seemed I was alone in this dark night.

On, the music, my mind needed to rest now, for my energy was near zero. Goodnight!

We'd be better not be friends

Get used to hearing you share details of your life

Afraid of destroying the perfect balance

Keep the distance from a heart

You can’t hear my loneliness

I go back to the past and you fly to the future 

Meeting the right person misses the intersection 

Obviously you are already standing in front of me

But I kept waving and saying goodbye

Don’t be friends from now on.

Friends can’t hold hands.

The urge to love you can only be carried away with a smile

Best friend, some dreams cannot be told.

I don’t have to bear the heartache of losing you

 

Draw a safe skyline

No one is allowed to shed tears for us

Give up the chance to love someone well I want to see you happy forever

Don’t be friends from now on.

Friends can’t hold hands.

The urge to love you can only be carried away with a smile

Best friend, some dreams cannot be told.

I don’t have to bear the heartache of losing you 

It’s too much torture to hold back and lose control.

I’m doing it myself.

Memories are my wounds that can’t be healed

We will still be friends from now on.

You still understand me best.

We have a beginning and an end,

and we will reach the end of the world

Forever friends, bless me after I meet love

I will no longer be cowardly, hold those hands tightly

Closure by Hayd

Did we both fall in love

Before we were ready?

Or did we both give up

Before we were steady?

I don't know, I don't know, all I know

Is that now I'm alone

Were we both too scared?

Or were we well-prepared?

For the future and all

The mistakes that it bears

I don't know, I don't know, all I know

Is that now I'm alone

Yeah, these are questions in my head

Answers I won't get

Thoughts I never said

That I kinda wish I did

I guess sometimes you find the one

But the timing's off

The place is wrong

Maybe we would be closer

If we were a couple years older

I guess sometimes you fall in love

Then one day feels like you wake up

And everything's over

Without any closure

Did we both think that this

Was the best that we found?

Or were we too afraid

To have no one around?

I don't know, I don't know, all I know

Is that now I'm alone

Did we hope on a star

A bit too far?

Was the distance between

Too great for our hearts?

I don't know, I don't know, all I know

Is that now I'm alone

Yeah, these are questions in my head

Answers I won't get

Thoughts I never said

That I kinda wish I did

I guess sometimes you find the one

But the timing's off

The place is wrong

Maybe we would be closer

If we were a couple years older

I guess sometimes you fall in love

Then one day feels like you wake up

And everything's over

Without any closure

The First Morning of the New Year

What did you think about in the first morning of the new year?

It was the first day of the new year. The wind was a bit chilly but bearable. The sun shied away from the earth, poking half of her face. The sunlight was not as strong as its full force.

This morning was quiet. There was less traffic on the road. Perhaps, people were still in bed as they had stayed late last night for countdown. I was woken up from my sleep when people shouted, "happy New Year!" and the sound of fireworks outside my room. Hmmm, I did not plan to celebrate this. I wished myself a few new year wishes and went back to bed.  

I roamed the normal path to my parents' house. I did not think about anything in particular. I did not know what to think. Maybe, I lost the ability to think.

Random thoughts popped up in my head, but please do not ask me what they were. They were just random thoughts and nothing worth mentioning. Now, you insisted. Let me share with you some.

I thought if my motorbike was broken. I thought if I lost the balance. I thought if I was going to fall down. I thought about my plants at the office if someone helped me water them. I thought about going back to the office and what I should focus on first thing in the morning. I thought about buying coffee powder for I had finished it this morning. I thought about, again, nothing particularly important.

A boring new year morning, isn't it! Happy New Year, everyone!

One of the sisters: The Response

Everyone has his/her own crazily secret love story that is not the successful one. 

Our friendship was and has been the purest one. We met one another 12 years ago when we pursued our higher education in Thailand.

We argued a lot but never fell into real argument. I told you that we would never become boyfriend and girlfriend because our views were different. Yet, you told me that if I kept arguing with you, one day I would fall for you. I rejected your comment and how come you were so confident about that. We continued our school years like this, arguing, traveling, doing assignments, and working towards our graduation.

One day! One day, I confessed to you. You were true that if I kept arguing with you, I would fall for you without knowing it. But you were silent. We were silent. For quite sometimes we did not talk. I knew that you did not want to lose our friendship that's why you did not say anything when I confessed. Finally, we talked to one another again for I did not want to lose a friend like you too. But before we graduated, we made a crazy promise that when we reached 40 years old and were still single, we would get together.

Shortly after, we graduated and moved on to each of our own path. We talked once in a while. I still told my friends about you, whom I had confessed. We met sometimes when I visited your country. Our friendship was still strong.

Now, I was married and my man and two boys made me my family. And you visited and handed me a wedding gift you had bought 8 years ago on my wedding. I felt thrilled. I valued your time and commitment coming to meet me. I felt regret that I didn't get a chance to serve you even one glass of wine. I hoped to accompany you during your trip. Good night dear. I wish you a relaxed time closing the year 2023 and filled with powerful energy to start a new year 2024.

One of the sisters: The Wedding Gift

25 December 2023 - morning

Today was Christmas day, though we did not celebrate this festivity. The weather was chill in Chiang Mai. I was not certain why I was here in first place. One thing I knew was that I need to hand a wedding gift to one of the sisters. I bought the gift eight years ago when I heard that she was getting married. I was very pleased to hear that she found her other half she wanted to spend her life with. More than that we did not need to fulfil our crazy promise dated in 2011 when we were university student.

I woke up this morning in a fairly old wooden house, which I had found in Air BnB app. It was nothing special about the place, but it was cheap and affordable I guessed. The owner was nice though--a tall, elderly guy with gray hair. He was gentle by the way he spoke. Perhaps, because English was not our mother tongue. So, we spoke words by words, slowly and carefully. We chose simple and easy-to-understand vocabularies that did not need further explanation. It was important to be able to communicate in a common language both people understand each other. Plus, it was not a public speaking competition that we had to play around with fancy, technical vocabularies.

I sat down for breakfast at 8 o'clock or so. I usually did not have breakfast back home. But I had to have something to fill my stomach before my mission. I thought it would be light breakfast, something quick and easy like eggs and toast. To my surprise, it was not. It was freshly made fried noodles and mango sticky rice. In fact, it looked like more of my lunch. Since I could not pack it. I just needed to enjoy this big breakfast. Silently, I whispered to myself that tomorrow I would get out of the room for breakfast at 10 o'clock so that it would be my lunch instead of a breakfast.

After finishing the big breakfast, I brushed my teeth and took a shower. It was embarrassed to admit that I had not taken any shower since last night because the weather was too cold. A hot shower made it up for a cold morning. I then put on clean clothes and backpack. I took backpack for I thought I would visit Chiang Dao and spend overnight there if I felt like it.

On the road, I went. I roam the road to her place based on the direction shown on the maps. Thanks to it, otherwise, I would not find her place. My hands were shaking, so were my legs, because I had neither gloves nor shocks. I drove bare hands and wore flip-flop shoes.

I drove about one hour to reach her village. It was not her hometown so to speak, but a place she relocated with her family after her home country fell into internal arms conflict. It was unfortunate for her, her family, and hundred thousands of others, who had to abandon their home and settle in a foreign land. In contrary, I was lucky to be able to lead my life in my motherland. It was chilling along the road.

She lived in a small, one storied house by the foot of a hill. There was no gate. When I reached there, I saw her sitting in pink, plastic chair in front of the house as if she was waiting to welcome a long lost friend. I smiled (with my facemask on) as soon as I saw her. Her husband was there, but her two boys were at school, attending classes. I parked the bike and handed her oranges I bought along the way.

We then sat down, talked, drank tea, ate some local snack from her hometown, and laughed, despite the fact that the land we were sitting on was foreign to both of us. I asked her if she was hopeful about the future of her country. She said, "yes." She furthered that positive change would be attained soon. I did wish so too.

We then changed the subjects. We talked about life, what future may hold. Thinking about it, I felt a bit sad inside me. I was not sure, at that moment, what future may hold for me. I felt that my future was uncertain and out of reach. I was scared to think about it. I was scared that I would become an old man, leading a lonely life without anyone sitting by my side when the sun went down. Come to think of it, I felt even sadder.

We had lunch together, talked a bit more, laughed a little longer, and paid goodbye. I left her house. I still thought about her. How peaceful it was to live a slow, quiet life. But I was not sure if she felt peaceful inside given that she had to give up her home country, temporarily.

Where are you, my other half?

Where are you? When will you show up? Are you tormenting me?

It's really heartbreaking to only see you in my dream. It's heartaching to only feel close to you in my dream. Do you know how much I look forward to meeting you, hug you, kiss you, hold your hands, and do whatever I want as a lover would do to my heart content. I'm crying now thinking about your whereabouts and mean to reach you. I feel suffocating as if I am placed in a vacuumed room that air is being slowly sucked out.

Please, turn yourself in quickly 😭 Don't you feel the same way? Don't you look for me? Don't you want our time together a few years longer if we meet earlier before our last breath.

Now, I send my heart with a kiss to you through the wind to keep you warm until we found each other. Take care my other half. 

Forgetting our own face

Have you ever gotten up forgetting what your own face was like?

When I got up this morning, I looked at my face in my bathroom mirror. Suddenly, I had a doubt that if the face reflected before me in the mirror was my own damn face. I then placed both palms on my face while studying it - it had an oval shape, some beard and mustache, two-layer eyelids, curve eyebrows, brown eyes, straight hair though a bit messy after waking up. That should be me. But why could I not recognize my own face? Why did I doubt the person in the mirror before me? Why did I have this kind of thought? Did I actually doubt my face? Or did I actually doubt my existence? Or did I doubt what I should do today? What do I want to achieve today? A lot of questions popped up in my head that I could not find an answer to. I then washed my own damn face that I could not recognize, dressed up, locked the door behind me, and drove down the road to the office as usual. Yet, my head still thought about my face, my existence, my goal, my ... Inattentively, half of my body was wet. A car roamed over a bottle of water and splashed onto me. I was then awakened. Those thoughts vanished in the traffic as I had to focus on the road before me. 

Our First Home

"Have you ever imagined getting up your first home disappeared?"

I have never thought about that, not even once. I have never thought that my first home and her households would disappear one day. This kind of thinking has never crossed my mind, and I am not ready to think about it, for it will be very, very heartbreaking to face.

What would we behave if the persons—though we do not verbally express our feelings toward one another, but in our heart we know that we care for each other—disappear one day?

My first home has my parents and siblings. We grow up not talking much with one another. My parents in my childhood memories were too busy securing enough meals on the table. They got up early to mend their business. They were like opportunists. They often changed their business when new opportunities or demands rose. They did not stay still. They were very active. We all were very active. My siblings and I studied three times a day—morning, afternoon, and evening. When dust came, we were all exhausted. We then crawled into our own bed and the next day arrived. Our days went like this days, months, and years. We did not exchange many words, but we knew pretty clearly that we cared for each other and were responsible for our duties so that we made no one worried. It became our routines and responsibilities—they earned income, and we, the children, earned a degree. When we realized it, wrinkles welled up our arms and foreheads.

Now, I have a second home—my own home. But I can’t get rid of my first home. When I feel sick, I would go back to that leaking and dusty room. It will be the perfect place to escape despite the fact that I already have another escape because I know very clearly that I would be well taken care of. Someone would call up from downstairs to check if I am feeling better. Someone would call me for meals and medications.

So, when you asked me “Have you ever imagined getting up your first home disappeared?” tears would well up in my eyes. I want my first home to be immortal, eternal. I want my first home to always be there no matter what. I want my first home to never disappear because I am not ready to let go of my first home. I hope you do too. No matter how bad the memories of the first home was, in the end, they would never let anyone’s hands go because we are family. We not only laugh but cry.

I feel your smell lingering in the air

You might wonder why I love the smell of jasmine flowers the most of all other flowers. You might wonder why I love jasmine tea the most of all other tea flavors. You might wonder why I love anything, or simply everything, related to jasmine.

The answer is simple. I feel you beside me every time I feel the smell of jasmine. I feel your warmth when I sip a mouthful of hot jasmine tea. I feel your presence when I carry a handful of jasmine flowers in my palm. I feel secured. I feel at peace. I feel at ease. I feel you. I feel happiness.

Our stories, or I should put it 'our memories,' began like this and ended like this, and please don't ask me how our stories began and ended, for you know clearly without my recollections.

What you don't know is my life after you're gone. So, you should know that I feel your smell lingering in the air every time the smell of jasmine passes through the wind to my nose. I then turn around to check if I would, though I know clearly that I will not, see you again. At that moment, the surroundings become deadly silent. The barking dogs turn mute. The pale moon hides herself behind the cloud. The wind suddenly stops blowing. The smell suddenly disappears. Everything, or maybe I imagine it, stands still except me driving under the dim light shone by an almost broken street lamp and tears welling up in my eyes because I fully understand that no one will be waiting for me at home. No one will be comforting me when I rest on the couches in the darkness. No one...

The night I came back, the same boat I took the previous evening sank

Nov 13, 2016 -- the first day of this year's Water Festival in Cambodia I visited Kampot Province with my partner. We hoped to enjoy this festival out of the capital.

We took the bus from Phnom Penh to Kampot at 8 a.m. so that we could reach there before lunch. We did reach there before lunch as plan. We arrived at the provincial town at about 10:50 a.m.

At the bus station, we waved at a tuk tuk driver to take us to our accommodation. It was a long story regarding our accommodation. We had booked and cancelled many times before we were sure that we were going to Kampot Province. Finally, we ended up staying in a Khmer House room in Two Moons Hotel along the river in the town. It was quite small, the room! No private bathroom! I was a little disappointed with the room! I had a feeling that I was cheated about the room! I thought they put us in a single room instead of the double room! I wanted to changed to a hotel room, but my partner insisted that we could stay. It was hot, and there was no air-conditioning.

At 12 noon, we got our of our room as it was getting hotter and hotter for lunch. We walked under the heat to explore the city. It was very quiet town despite it was during the holiday! There were not many tourists and traffic.

After walking along the riverbank for about 1 kilometer, we reached an old, fragile bridge that could no longer accommodate heavy vehicles like car or truck. Only motorbike and bicycle were allowed to drive past the bridge. We passed through many foreign restaurants. We did not fancy Western food, or at least, my partner did not fancy Western food. I was fine with either options, Western or Asian. Finally, we went for street food. I ordered Lok Cha with egg and my partner, chicken with rice.

:) Honestly, when it comes to food, my partner is very picky. My partner doesn't eat a lot of vegetables, and eats only a few, specific kinds of vegetables. For me, I can eat anything but not meat. I love seafood and fish.

After lunch, we took motor taxi back to our hotel. We took a nap before we went swimming. We spent the time in the pool for almost an hour. In the pool, we saw a family. The father is French and the mother might be Cambodian. Intermarriage between foreigner and Cambodia has been very frequent. He had three kids. All of them were lovely.

Then we dried off and walked down the street for our sunset cruise along the riverbank. Before we got on the boat, we had some papaya salad and ordered some beef jerky and fried mixed meatball. The sunset cruise had been featured in Radio French International's news program that I would like to give it a try. Their schedule was to leave the riverbank at 5 p.m. and come back around 7 or 8 p.m. Apart from the sunset view, the cruise also took us to see firefly. It was a moonlit night. The moon was in full bloom. The reflection of the moon on the river was breathtakingly beautiful. I took a lot of photos of the reflection of the moon and the moon.

Somebody once told me that if two people take a boat together and arrive safe and sound, this means that these two people are bound together. They share the same feeling and destiny. In contrary, if the boat sinks, this means that these two people are not meant together. If they insist, the consequence would be unpleasant to both of them.

I was glad that we were safe and sound after the cruise.

Tomorrow morning, we would take tuk tuk -- tricycle motor engine -- to O'Chhnhean Dang Prek and left the town in the evening.

The night that we came back home we heard a news report about the sinking boat in Kampot Province. I guessed it might be from the same owner, who owned about three tourist boats. We were very fortunate to not taking the boat on November 14. We were meant together. We had to hold onto one another. Thanks for being with me.

I felt sorry for those victims of the sinking boat. Hope those who lost their lives rest in peace!

the sinking boat (http://getlostincambodia.blogspot.com/2016/11/four-drown-as-kampot-tour-boat-sinks.html)

MY PHNOM PENH: Youk Chhang, Genocide archivist

Youk Chhang is the director of the Documentation Center of Cambodia and a Phnom Penh native. On the 41st anniversary of the city’s fall this week, he sat down with Audrey Wilson to recall some of his favourite sites of memory in Phnom Penh – and his hope for the capital’s future.

Russian Embassy

In the old days, this building belonged to the National Bank of Cambodia, and my uncle worked there. It was the tallest building in the city. Any employee of the National Bank could buy an apartment. Every other weekend, we would go there. On the fourth floor, you could see the river and the view. They had a soccer field, tennis court, volleyball court. It was very private. It’s also the first place in Phnom Penh to grow the royal yellow flower – I remember because I used to pick it and sell it to the foreigners. When I returned, it had become the Russian Embassy, so I had no access to it. It’s something that the past has taken away, and I want it back.

Battambang Restaurant

I love the streets near O’Russey Market. At Battambang Restaurant they sell num pav, you know, the Chinese cakes. They are considered the best in the city. I always buy it from that place – very cheap and very convenient. For me, the city is about food. When you come to Phnom Penh, you come to eat noodles. But in the noodle place, you also have num pav. Without the Chinese influence and num pav, it’s not Phnom Penh – it gives flavour to the city. Usually you go early in the morning – the cakes are fresh from the hot pot at five o’clock. I think most of my favourite places are based on memory. And num pav reminds me of Phnom Penh – that time and that place, it’s like when I would come with my mother, father and sister and buy that cake and bring it home. It’s not just the place, it’s the memory attached to it.

Norodom Boulevard

The first things I think of when I think of Phnom Penh are the phka trabek prey (purple flowers) on Norodom Boulevard. When I was a little boy, I used to ride my bicycle down it, and the flowers grow just during this time of year: April, May. When you think of Phnom Penh in the ’60s, before it was touched by war, it was a garden. Every house, every home had a garden. There’s a song about this flower by a woman named Dy Sakhan. She sang this song during the war, and the flower became a symbol of the city. She beautified the war. I like Norodom Boulevard most on Sunday mornings: jogging, running, bicycling. For me, the city now belongs to vehicles. That’s why Sunday morning is the only time: you can walk there, you can cross the street without worrying about traffic.

Tuol Kork Primary School

I go to my old primary school, Poeuv Oum, almost every holiday. It was the first place I learned to read and write. I put a little memorial there, at the high school. A lot of former students have returned and helped out. But the primary school brings back a lot of memories. It was very close to my old house, and the structure remains the same, still the same compound, still the same classrooms. In the high school in the old days, they had a flower called Tuesday Morning. I used to pick it and make tea for my grandmother. Now they’ve cut all the trees down, and it is called Tuol Kork primary school. My old house was knocked down six months ago – the house I was born in. It became a garage and carwash. The school is across the street, and that’s part of why I like to go. It’s still the same.

Sleuk Rith Institute

The Sleuk Rith Institute is my project for the future of Phnom Penh. I worked with Zaha Hadid to try to bring Phnom Penh to the globe, transforming the tragedy to strength. We also wanted to redesign Phnom Penh – I’ve been thinking a lot about the city plan since I started to work with her in 2013. We planned to reinvent the past, the canal bridges for example, and to create more space for the public. We studied photographs from the 1800s, 1900s – what Cambodia was like when it was not touched by war. It would be beautiful if our master plan were developed and adopted. We’ve worked with Cambodian engineers, architects and scholars; we all agreed that the charm had been lost, but there is no master plan. That’s why the idea of the Sleuk Rith Institute and the master plan came together: we believe in the future.

by Audrey Wilson,  The Phnom Penh Post, Fri, 22 April 2016

លង់ក្នុងភាពស្រមើស្រម៉ៃ

តើអ្នកជឿទេថា មនុស្សម្នាក់អាចរស់នៅក្នុងភាពស្រមើស្រម៉ៃរបស់ខ្លួន ឯងបានដែរឬទេ? មិនតែប៉ុណ្ណោះ តើអ្នកជឿទេថា មនុស្សម្នាក់អាចលង់ក្នុងភាពស្រមើស្រម៉ៃរបស់ខ្លួនឯងអស់ពេលជាច្រើនឆ្នាំដែរឬទេ? តើអ្នកជឿថាមនុស្សអាចបញ្ចុះបញ្ចូលឲ្យមនុស្សដទៃនៅជុំវិញខ្លួនជឿទៅលើអ្វីដែលមនុស្សម្នាក់នោះបានស្រមើស្រម៉ៃដែរឬទេ? ចំពោះខ្ញុំវិញ ខ្ញុំគិតថានេះជារឿងមួយដែលអាចកើតឡើងបាន។ អតីតកាល និងបទពិសោធន៍របស់មនុស្សម្នាក់ជាបច្ច័យញាំងឲ្យមនុស្សម្នាក់ព្យាយាមបង្កើតនូវការស្រមើស្រម៉ៃផ្សេងៗ ដើម្បីអាចរំដោះខ្លួនឯងឲ្យចាកផុតអំពីបញ្ហាដែលខ្លួនធ្លាប់ជួបប្រទះកន្លងមក។

មនុស្សខ្លះកុហកមិត្តភក្តិខ្លួនឯងដោយប្រាប់មិត្តភកិ្តទាំងអស់នោះថា ខ្លួនឯងកំពុងមានស្នេហា ដូចជានិយាយប្រាប់មិត្តភក្តិខ្លួនឯងថាគូស្នេហ៍របស់ខ្លួនចូលចិត្តរបស់នេះរបស់នោះ មិនចូលចិត្តរបស់នេះរបស់នោះ ធ្វើការនៅទីនេះទីនោះ ធ្លាប់ទៅដើរលេងនៅកន្លែងនេះកន្លែងនោះ ចូលចិត្តញាំម្ហូបនេះម្ហូបនោះ មិនចូលចិត្តងងឹត រូបរាងគួរឲ្យស្រឡាញ់ ជាដើម។ តាមពិតទៅ អ្វីដែលមនុស្សម្នាក់លើកឡើងគឺជារឿងអតីតកាលមួយដែលមនុស្សម្នាក់នោះអាចមិនចង់បំភ្លេច ឬមិនចង់ឲ្យកើតឡើង។ អ្វីដែលអាចសន្និដ្ឋានបានគឺ មនុស្សម្នាក់នោះអាចនឹងមិនទាន់កាត់ចិត្តអំពីអ្វីដែលបានបាត់បង់ ឬមិនអាចទទួលស្គាល់នូវអ្វីដែលបានកើតឡើង។ សេចក្តីសន្និដ្ឋានមួយទៀតអាចមកពីមនុស្សម្នាក់នោះមានអារម្មណ៍ខ្មាស់អៀនមិត្តខ្លួនឯង ដោយសារតែមនុស្សម្នាក់នោះមិនធ្លាប់មានស្នេហា ឬសង្សារដូចមិត្តភក្តិរបស់ខ្លួន។ ការកហុកខ្លួនឯងអាចធ្វើឲ្យមនុស្សម្នាក់កាន់តែលង់ជ្រៅពីមួយថ្ងៃទៅមួយថ្ងៃប្រសិនបើមនុស្សម្នាក់នោះមិនព្រមត្រឡប់មករស់នៅក្នុងបច្ចុប្បន្នកាលវិញ។ កាន់តែធ្ងន់ធ្ងរនោះ មនុស្សម្នាក់អាចធ្វើអ្វីៗឲ្យខ្លួនឯង ប៉ុន្តែប្រាប់មិត្តភក្តិរបស់ខ្លួនថា គូស្នេហ៍របស់ខ្លួនជាអ្នកធ្វើឲ្យ ដូចជាទិញចិញ្ចៀនឲ្យខ្លួនឯង ជាដើម។ ទង្វើបែបនេះអាចបណ្តាលមកពីកត្តាសង្គមជាអ្នកបង្កឡើង ពោលគឺប្រសិនបើសង្គមមួយឲ្យតម្លៃទៅលើភាពស៊ីវិល័យ និងភាពហុឺហារ។ នៅពេលដែលពេលវេលាដើរទៅមុខយូរទៅ ការកុហករបស់មនុស្សម្នាក់នោះទៅលើមិត្តភក្តិរបស់ខ្លួនកាន់តែច្រើនឡើងៗដែលអាចនឹងធ្វើឲ្យមនុស្សម្នាក់នោះមិនអាចដកខ្លួនឲ្យផុតអំពីទង្វើកុហក បើទោះបីជាការកុហកនោះមិនបានធ្វើឲ្យប៉ះពាល់ដល់មិត្តភិក្តរបស់ខ្លួនក៏ដោយ។

កត្តាសង្គម មិត្តភកិ្ត និងគ្រួសារអាចជាបញ្ហាដែលធ្វើឲ្យមនុស្សម្នាក់មានសម្ពាធ។ នៅពេលដែលមានសម្ពាធ មនុស្សម្នាក់ៗនឹងព្យាយាមធ្វើអ្វីមួយ ដើម្បីកាត់បន្ថយសម្ពាធ ប៉ុន្តែមធ្យោបាយនៃការកាត់បន្ថយសម្ពាធអាចជះលទ្ធផលមិនល្អដល់បុគ្គលនោះ ប្រសិនបើមធ្យោបាយដែលបានជ្រើសរើសនោះមិនត្រឹមត្រូវ។

សូមកុំឲ្យសង្គម មិត្តភក្តិ និងគ្រួសារក្លាចជាសម្ពាធមកលើរូបអ្នក! សូមដោះស្រាយបញ្ហាដោយការពិចារណា!

Another story….

"If you were a liar when you were a child, does that mean you'll be a liar for the rest of your life? I was such a liar when I was a kid. I lied openly, all the time. I used to tell my classmates that I had a father, when in reality my father was dead."
"Children always lie. When you're a kid, lying is like a game. Sometimes we lie to avoid suffering or to avoid hurting someone else."

Chance Encounter

“I want to ask you something, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I just feel like asking. You won’t get mad, will you?”

“No, I won’t get mad.”

“It’s kind of a strange question, but I don’t have any ulterior motive in asking it. I want you to understand that. I’m just a curious person. But some people get really angry about these things.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t get angry.”

“Are you sure? That’s what everybody says, and then they blow up.”

“I’m special, so don’t worry.”

“Did you ever have then experience of having a man do funny things to you when were little?”

“No, I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just wanted to ask. If it never happened to you, fine. Anyway, have you ever had a lover? I mean, someone you were seriously involved with?”

“Never.”

“Not even once?”

“Not even once. To tell you the truth, I was a virgin until I turned twenty-six.”

“A beautiful woman like you? I can’t believe it.”

“I just wasn’t interested.”

“Not interested in men?”

“I did have one person I fell in love with. It happened when I was ten. I held his hand.”

“You fell in love with a boy when you were ten? That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“So, where is the boy now? What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. We were in the same third- and fourth-grade classes in Ichikawa in Chiba, but I moved to a school in Tokyo in the fifth grade, and I never saw him again, never heard anything about him. All I know is that, if he’s still alive, he should be twenty-nine years old now. He’ll probably turn thirty this fall.”

“Are you telling me you never thought about trying to find out where he is or what he’s doing? It wouldn’t be that hard, you know.”

“I never felt like taking the initiative to find out.”

“That’s so strange. If it were me, I’d do everything I could to locate him. If you love him that much, you should track him down and tell him so to his face.”

“I don’t want to do that. What I want is for the two of us to meet somewhere by chance one day, like, passing on the street, or getting on the same bus.”

“Destiny. A chance encounter.”

“More or less. That’s when I’ll open up to him. ‘The only one I’ve ever loved in this life is you.’”

“How romantic! But the odds of a meeting like that are pretty low. And besides, you haven’t seen him for twenty years. He might look completely different. You could pass him on the street and never know.”

“I’d know. His face might have changed, but I’d know him at a glance. I couldn’t miss him.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“So you go on waiting, believing that this chance encounter is bound to happen.”

“Which is why I always pay attention when I walk down the street.”

“Incredible. But as much as you love him, you don’t mind having sex with other men – at least after you turned twenty-six.”

“That’s all just in passing. It doesn’t last.”

“Sorry if this is getting too personal, but did something happen to you when you were twenty-six?”

“Something did happen. And it changed me completely. But I can’t talk about it here and now. Sorry.”

“That’s perfectly okay. Did I put you in a bad mood asking all these questions?”

“Not in the least.”

“Are you afraid, though?”

“Afraid of what?”

“Don’t you see? You and he might never cross paths again. Of course, a chance meeting could occur, and I hope it happens. I really do, for your sake. But realistically speaking, you have to see there’s a huge possibility you’ll never be able to meet him again. And even if you do meet, he might already be married to somebody else. He might have two kids. Isn’t that so? And in that case, you may have to live the rest of your life alone, never being joined with the one person you love in all the world. Don’t you find that scary?”

“Maybe I do. But at least I have someone I love.”

“Even if he never loved you?”

“If you can love someone with your whole heart, even one person, then there’s salvation in life. Even if you can’t get together with that person.”

“You’re amazine, the way you can put this in such a philosophical perspective.”

“I’m not being philosophical. I’m just telling you what I honestly think.”

“I was in lvoe with somebody once. Right after I graduated from high school. The boy I first had sex with. He was three years older than me. But he dumped me for somebody else right away. I went kind of wild after that. It was really hard on me. I got over him, but I still haven’t recovered from the wild part. He was a real two-timing bastard, a smooth talker. But I really loved him.”

“He still calls me once in a while, says he wants to get together. All he wants is my body, of course. I know that. So I don’t see him. I know it would just be another mess if I did. Or should I say my brain knows it, but my body always reacts. It wants him so badly! When these things build up, I let myself go crazy again. I wonder if you know what I mean.”

“I certainly do.”

“He’s really an awful guy, pretty nasty, and he’s not that good in bed, either. But at least he’s not scared of me, and while I’m with him he treats me well.”

“Feelings like that don’t give you any choice, do they? They come at you whenever they want to. It’s not like choosing food from a menu.”

“It is in one way: you have regrets after you make a mistake.”

It’s the same with menus and men and just about anything else: we think we’re choosing things for ourselves, but in fact we may not be choosing anything. It could be that everything’s decided in advance and we pretend we’re making choices. Free will may be an illusion. I often think that.”

“If that’s true, life is pretty dark.”

“Maybe so.”

“But if you can love someone with your whole heart – even if he’s a terrible person and even if he doesn’t love you back – life is not a hell, at least, though it might be kind of dark. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Exactly.”

“But still, it seems to me that this world has a serious shortage of both logic and kindness.”

“You may be right. But it’s too late to trade it in for another one.”

“The exchange window expired a long time ago. And the receipt’s been thrown away.”

“You said it.”

“Oh, well, no problem. The world is going to end before we know it.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“And the kingdom is going to come.”

“I can hardly wait.”