Mar.1 - Kandal, Going way back

Stomach is recovering, and I am able to go out again (though even more cautious of what we eat—is that possible? Am I reduced to having bottled water and durian?) On remembering we are headed deep into the woods and rice fields today, my stomach turns again at the thought of what lunch might be like out there. Luckily, we bring food.

We bring food to a home in Kandal province that has been in our family since it was built in the 1930s. The only time that our family did not possess this house was during the Khmer Rouge. During that time, our family was re-located to an even more remote place while the Khmer Rouge used this home as their warehouse. When the Khmer Rouge regime was defeated, all homes went for grabs to the first family that claimed them. Since our family’s house was among the largest and uniquely made of concrete (instead of aluminum or wood), it was among the first to be taken, however, not by us. My great had grandma returned too late; our family had to negotiate for their home back. Now grandpa’s niece and family live there. Grandpa has since funded the home’s renovation, paying for a new tiled roof, new wood flooring, and a pump well among other things. This house, though sturdy and large by Cambodian standards, is still incredibly basic by our standards.

Grandpa was born in this house as was his first child Auntie Laura (ma’s older sister). Grandpa’s parents were rice farmers who pretty much subsisted on the land they lived, raising cattle, pigs, and chickens while enjoying the fruits around the perimeter of their house, tending the vegetables just out back, and plowing the rice fields that stretch beyond the vegetable garden. Grandpa's niece’s husband (darn, getting relations right here is exhausting!) cuts down coconuts and fruits from the trees for us to enjoy. I try the coconut juice, but with my stomach still weak I refrain from trying the unfamiliar fruits which ma and her siblings devour.

Afterward, ma’s brothers and I go for a long walk through the rice fields, ensuring to step along the tops of trenches dug to help irrigate the fields. Uncle Meng and Leng remember when they were forced to dig such trenches during the Khmer Rouge, working straight from just before dawn to dusk with only a 15 minute break in between to gulp down a small bowl of rice and water blackened from a bit of chopped Rau Moun vegetable added for additional “nutrition”. We see a lizard; Uncle Leng says, “That would have been meat back in the day!” We let the lizard go, sighing and happily knowing things are better now.