$8 and three chooks

The Manly Daily

19 April 2008

TEN minutes in a tuk-tuk along a straight, flat, very dusty and very bumpy road and I reached the home of Khem Set's family.

Mother and a crowd of about 30 assorted women and children had assembled to meet the invited Australian guest, surely a rarity in these poorer parts of Siem Reap, Cambodia's third-largest city.

Khem Set's family of seven comprises a hearty, strong and hard-working mother, a weakening, non-working father and five children from seven to 16. I have known them for three years.

On some days they are hungry. Shortly after I arrived I asked if the mother was still earning $1.50 per day as a builder's labourer and did they need a little extra support. The answer was ``no'', because the total current cash situation was adequate ... $8 in the mother's pocket and 25 cents with the eldest sister.

People in this area do not have bank accounts, of course. To put this money in perspective, the seven family members exist each day on about one quarter of my daily expenditure for coffee and a muffin at my local cafe.

Three years ago a sponsor bought them five chickens, which in good times they breed up and in bad times they eat. The current stock of three chooks was scratching underneath the grass house raised seemingly precariously on flimsy poles.

Tonight, especially for me, they had roasted one. I had arrived at 5:30pm and Mother had already prepared what was described by Set's sister, Sour, with the widest grin, as ``best ever!'' dinner. There were in total 10 plates of assorted Cambodian fare.

Now, I am very careful not to eat anything that has not been peeled or boiled. I do not eat anything simply washed in the local water such as green-leaf vegetables. But what could I do? As I write this days later, there were no problems.

I was dreading the prospect of sleeping on the hard wooden floor (they do not have one stick of furniture in their single-room grass house), but the thoughtful Mother had arranged for a foam mattress for me worry number one solved. When we all lay down just after nightfall, there was little floor space left.

Then worry number two was also solved ... I am paranoid about mosquitoes, but Mother had already hung a huge net that Khem Set fastidiously tucked under the mattress. They couldn't do much to alleviate worry number three: it is not uncommon, while sleeping on wooden floors, for tiny ants to crawl into an ear but ``no worries ... to get it out, just block the other ear with a thumb, put a finger in your navel and then spit''. (I kid you not!)

In Cambodian children's early years, mothers are very strict and I see many whacks on the behind. Probably this, plus a lack of toys and having only a few material possessions, leads to people-focused children who respect their elders.

So, typically, Khem Set's mother is very much the one to set the children's targets and priorities, and in most fine families such as this one the children study hard.

They start school at 7am and, each afternoon after coming home from a government school (six days a week), do their homework on the floor. It looks so uncomfortable, but for them it's just routine.

Then, for one extra hour between 6pm and 7pm, a sponsor has made it possible for the children to take extra classes in English at Siem Reap's private Best Future Centre. The childrenare very well-mannered and are perpetually cheerful, finding many opportunities for laughing. This, in my opinion, is a class family.

The downside for me was the pervasive dust. Their house is right on the roadside and in peak times it is choking. The family probably doesn't notice it. And there was no toilet other than a group of banana palms over the back fence.AFTER the first half-hour by bus from Nepal's capital, Kathmandu a stop-start, depressing experience in traffic jams on the heavily potholed main arterial road the environment changes instantly, dramatically and wonderfully as we crest through the rim of mountains circling the valley into awesome scenic vistas.

Traditional mud and stone family homes cling precipitously to the sides of dramatically steep mountains. These houses, except for the rare cluster that forms a mountain village, are quite well separated by luxuriously green plenty to smile about
forest growth interspersed with each family's tiny, clearly hard-won fields for growing rice, cereal and vegetable crops. The truly majestic snow-capped Himalayan peaks stand proud as final backdrops.

Surely the lives in the traditional homes in this paradise could only be tranquil and contented? I was about to find out.

The invitation for me to sleep over with Samjhana's family was eagerly accepted, being my first opportunity to experience a traditional Nepali family's mountain lifestyle. Samjhana is a 17-year-old girl whose education is being ensured by one of Nepcam's sponsors. She and another sponsored child, Ashmita, who is 11 years old, met me at the bus stop.

``What can I buy for your family?'' I asked.

``Fruit and cookies if you want.''

The girls led me 4km up a side road to the start of a very narrow path that struck off towards the sky. After about an hour we reached the delightful mud-and-stone home in the most idyllic location I have ever seen, or could even imagine ... noiseless, crisp clean air, and nestled on a cliff edge amongst very thick forest.

The girls had been very sure-footed and had made light of the treacherous path, but I had been super-careful and puffingly slow. We were regularly being overtaken by groups of children heading home from school, and they had obviously forewarned a large section of the mountainside of this strange visitor coming because upon arrival there were 24 people of all sizes clustered around Samjhana's home to greet me.

Soon the group dispersed, leaving just the family: Mother widowed for 10 years and three daughters, 11, 13 and 17. They are an exceptionally good-looking family and the children are very intelligent. I know this because I get the school reports for all Nepcam's sponsored children every six months.

We immediately sat down beside their cooking fire while Nepali tea was prepared. I asked the mother directly: ``You have three fine daughters living with you in this traditional home, in such a beautiful environment, you surely must be so happy?'' To this she replied: ``Life is difficult.''

It was revealed that their total wealth that evening was $3.50, with little prospect of income until next season's rice, maize and grain crops were harvested from their tiny fields (which produce mostly for home consumption).

Their cow was not giving milk, normally a stable daily source of at least some income by providing milk for the calf ``and a little for us''; and the two goats had just produced a boy and girl the previous day, so they had to grow somewhat before being ready for sale. So, no livestock or livestock products for sale. The mother was about to add to her borrowings (at 20 per cent interest).

Their daily menu is unchanging black tea for breakfast, no lunch and a dhal bhat dinner (rice with greens chopped up and spiced).

I asked if they had local people who would help with some money or food. ``My mother will not ask,'' replied Samjhana.

``Well, what will you do then?'' I followed.

``Mother will provide,'' she said.

They had last eaten meat (goat) about two months ago, and since then they had no change whatsoever to their most economical of diets. Needless to say, Ashmita, at a later time, told me the family were frequently without food and ``a little'' hungry.

I would like to emphasise that this family, like so many Nepali, are some of the most humble, uncomplaining and gentle people that one could ever meet.

Dinner was simple, but very tasty with quite a few added spices. Nothing at all was left in the cooking pot or on the plates as, eating with their right hands, the family swooped up every last grain of rice. Sitting around the fire, eating and drinking Nepali sweet tea, the family engaged in continuous chit-chat and laughter, and at 8.30pm we bedded down on the floor in their one room on the first floor above the goats.

As I fall asleep back home in Sydney, there are many nights when I think of the families I know wonderful families such as Khem Set's and Samjhana's whose hospitality has given me an insight into the local customs and culture. The experience has been far more absorbing, rewarding and enriching than seeing yet another pagoda or wat. And much more humbling.

Can you spare $24 per month to help another family? Every cent goes to provide a child's education because other sponsors pay Nepcam Trust's administration expenses. Six-monthly feedback (letter, photo, school report) is provided on each sponsored child. Email: colin@mensa.org.au or see nepcam.org.au for more detailed information.