On The Street Where I Live.
on Mary In Cambodia (Cambodia), 06/Jan/2012 14:07, 34 days ago
On the street where I live.                        Before I pack my bag and prepare to leave Cambodia for home, let me tell you about the street I have lived in for most of the past year. In reality it’s a lane that leads from the town to the river. In Cambodian language it’s a village. (Village Number 3).      I find it a very interesting little place, full of life, old and young, rich and poor, healthy and ill, big fancy houses behind high gates and little tumble-down hovels. People work, play and live here. Mothers cook meals over open fires, families sit on the ground and eat. Laundry is done and hung to dry. Fish are caught in the river, gutted and set to dry in the sun. The men sit and chat over a few glasses of rice wine, or play cards in the evenings. Children ramble freely, playing games, marbles, skipping, football, cycling. Old people sit in the shade, keep an eye on the young children and chat to anyone who passes by.            I see numerous small industries here. Two families make ice-cream and sell it from small carts in the area. They start crushing blocks of ice around 5 every morning, then the generators get going churning the mixture, carts set off before 7.       An engagement Party.Take-away?Time for breakfast.          Opposite myhouse is a catering business. They provide tents, furniture and prepare and serve food for special occasions. A few doors up, there’s a morning café where you can buy bowls of porridge for breakfast. Another family sells iced coffee. We have a little sweet stall and a place that sells bottled water, and at the corner you can buy petrol in litre bottles.Sign writer at work.  There’s a sign writer who does amazing work with brush and paint. Wearing his Vietnamese sun hat he moves his work from one side of the street to the other to avoid the sun.    Sewing from dawn to dusk.                                              Family members take turns keeping the machines going all day.                                        Everyone lends a hand3 families sew for the big factories. I have watched this work in progress. Two young girls make pockets and attach them to trousers. At another house they join the main parts of the garment together, while yet another family sews on waist bands. I’m told they earn less than 10 cent per garment.            Sellers call out their wares as they walk or drive down, There’s a bread man selling French sticks from a basket on the back of an old bicycle, a young boy sells steam cakes from a basket on his head, boiled eggs and sweet corn are sold from a cart on the side of a motor bike, rice in banana leaves, noodles, coconut juice, the list goes on. They come and go in their own time, bread in the morning, noodles at night…..House Blessing  The monks are also part of the scene. There are 2 pagodas on the river bank within a few hundred metres of the street. They begin chanting every morning at 5, announcing a new day and ensuring everyone is awake. They walk down daily collecting alms, standing and praying over each donor. Some of them are as young as 13 years and look even younger. I find it amusing to stand while these little kids chant at me, they look like children dressed up for a school play. I often give them a big smile but they never smile back, it’s all very serious business! When I asked them their age they reluctantly told me 13 or 14, but my assistant said I should not speak to them as it was disrespectful!! I was also showing disrespect when I forgot to take off my shoes before handing over the money.           By 8pm most families have retired for the night, the street is dark and silent—except for the dogs and geckos! All this in one small street, I will surelymiss it when I leave.