A lucky family counts its pythons

By Erika Kinetz
March 28, 2008

PHNOM PENH: The pythons, we were told, were to the south: over the Monivong Bridge, past the market, and then a hard right down what turned out to be a deplorable dirt track, with abscessed dogs, gleaners, the usual naked children and a terrible complement of sun-faded plastic trash.

In such a landscape it is easy to imagine how a man might want for luck. Easy, too, to imagine how such a man, barefoot and grizzled, might see fit to grab on to luck with both his fists, even if it came to him in the form of a large snake.

And so it was that Lay Nhel, 65, came to possess his pythons.

In Cambodia, mythical serpents, or naga, are guardian spirits associated with prosperity. They adorn the lintels of the ancient temples of Angkor, and their long bodies flank bridges and banisters old and new. Fearsome five-headed serpents, hooded like cobras, hold up the fountains in the park by my house, which is not far from the Naga Casino. There is even a myth about the snake princess who gave rise to the Cambodian people.

There is not a whiff of Christian sin about any of these serpents. And it led me to wonder: Absent the apple and Eve, could a snake actually be good?

Over the years, Lay Nhel said, he has had five pythons. His favorite, a 3.5-meter, or 11.5-foot, woman-snake, he caught one midnight at a nearby pond. "Someone possessed the snake. They wanted to live with our family," said his son, Lay Pros, 26. "She was so gentle."

Not long after, they caught another python, a male, and brought him home, too. They put the snakes together in a rough wood-and-chicken-wire coop beneath their wooden home, not far from the half-dozen clay pots they use to catch rainwater.

Such ministrations are not uncommon here. In early March, Cambodia's largest Khmer-language newspaper reported that two pythons, a male and a female, invaded the home of a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Defense, Neang Phat. He celebrated their arrival as a sign of good fortune, welcoming them into his family by throwing his new pets a huge wedding banquet.

Lay Nhel says his female python was a gift from a well-known local spirit, Yeay Mao. The family bathed in water the pythons had swum in, believing the spirits had left some trace of magic. And they let them out for 15 minutes of exercise each day, during which time the snakes offered further proof of their beneficence. "They wouldn't eat anything that causes the owner to lose money," Lay Pros said. "They wouldn't eat chickens or dogs; only things the owner can get for free."

Lay Pros maintains that the pythons brought the family good luck, chiefly by attracting business and enhancing his father's magic powers. People come to Lay Nhel and ask him to draw out magic on strips of soft metal, which they roll into scrolls and tie around their waists with string.

They pay him to call the spirits for them and chart out formulas of chance on small squares of red cloth: arrows, mythical lions, ancient crocodiles, unrecognizable script and bare-breasted angels who can bring fortune, health, love and protection from the great darkness of the world.
"This python made us richer," Lay Pros said.

But the blessings of the pythons came with a price. "Every day I had to find live rats for the pythons," Lay Pros said. "It's against Buddhism. When you catch the prey for the pythons, it's a sin."

Then one day, just over a year ago, Lay Nhel came to check on his pets and found 50 snake eggs. Trembling to think what it would take to feed such a bounty of luck, he went to a statue of Yeay Mao, just across the river, and asked her to please release him. Sensing no opposition, he sent the pythons and the eggs to a relative in the countryside.

I have no taste for a snake and no room for an alligator (which some rich men farm). I am too poor to invest in fish that bring fortune (which cost $2,000 and more) and too temporary to commit to a dog. Besides, I have seen clouds of butterflies rise up from the Cambodian jungle marshes and heard the clacking of a thousand unimaginable insects. After witnessing such animal marvels, what would I want with a mere house cat?

Still, I would like some of the power of the kingdom: the fierceness of the alligator, the beneficence of the snake, the fortune of the fish, the protection of the dog, the beauty of the butterflies. So I ask Lay Nhel to draw for me these things, and I will carry that red cloth wherever I go. In exchange, I leave a small donation.

Thus my visit is proof that the old man and his son are right: Even absent, the pythons keep making them richer.

Erika Kinetz is journalist living in Phnom Penh.