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Ratanakiri Second visit: October 23-27, 2000 A year later and this time it's Royal Phnom Penh Airways bringing me to Banlung in an ancient Antonov 24, an aircraft that has me wondering if it was perhaps part of some former Soviet Republic's fire sale. I then notice that the aircraft comes with its own Russian pilot. Did he bring his own Russian vodka? Is he sharing? Upon landing I again take a room at the Mountain Guesthouse, and after complaining about the laziness of the guide they provided me with last year, I'm assured they'll do much better. Banlung looks no different except I notice the Ratanakiri Restaurant has put a pair of signs out front, this time calling themselves by their more familiar name, the American Restaurant. But refreshing to know - the food, the staff, the clientele - they are the same as ever. The guide I'm given is likeable enough, though I've already put his name out of my mind, and his English, though not fluent, is at least better than the few sentences I extracted from last year's guide. Unfortunately, this guide hadn't been in Ratanakiri very long and other than repeating to me six times a day that "you'd like me to introduce you to the indigenous peoples," he really didn't know much about the area, nor have a clue as to how to drive a motorbike on soft roads with a passenger on the back. And if all that wasn't enough, in the beginning he often wanted to tell me about the wonderful new churches in the villages, how Jesus Christ was important to his life, and how his missionary friends were going to save all the souls of Ratanakiri.. The Cambodian government speaks often about this new Rule of Law thing that will make Cambodia a functioning, efficient, modern, law-abiding land (or something like that). Do you think they could start with the eviction of all the missionaries who come to places like Ratanakiri to play head games on people who for centuries have been served quite well by their own beliefs? Beliefs which may be Buddhism, animism, ancestor worship, or some combination thereof. Just a thought. [To read an opposing viewpoint on this issue, you may read a lengthy e-mail I received from a member of one of the missionary families living in Ratanakiri. Click here for the commentary. I then gave my guide a proper tongue lashing about screwing with people's culture - especially his own - and the subject was never brought up again.
Heading further west, we found that sure enough, Rule of Law has come to Ratanakiri. A police officer was flagging down motorbikes without license tags, fining them a couple of thousand riels for the infraction. This included us. My driver/guide claimed insolvency so of course the police officer turned to me. "No way, not my bike," was all I'd say, refusing to cough up so much as a 100 riels. After about five or ten minutes of detainment the officer gave up and let us go.
At the next village I happened to arrive just as the villagers had killed a pig. One of the village elders was sick with an undetermined stomach ailment, so the village decided to sacrifice a pig and a chicken to the ancestors. From these animals they would also make medicine to help with the man's stomach. I stayed around for about an hour and a half hoping to see some kind of ceremony but it was all rather straight forward. Kill the pig, burn the pig, clean the pig, gut the pig, cook the pig... and I suppose eat the pig.
We eventually reached Ta Veng. Like most of these tiny towns in Ratanakiri, it's little more than a couple of dozen wooden shacks. The three-room school building had two classes in session. As typical with most rural Cambodian schools, the teachers were perfectly agreeable to have me come into the class, sit around and cause general disruption by taking a few photos. In one classroom, the teacher had the students assembled in a circle and he was teaching them a song. In the other room, about 20 younger students were seated for their lesson.
Most of the children were quite shy and preferred that I not take their photo too closely (if at all) but one girl was anything but shy. After a few shots of the room my ever-roving eye noticed a young girl in green who was not taking her eyes off of me - not for a second. Any movement I made in her direction resulted in smiles, even giggles. I had my model. Her name is Noung Taa and aside from possible aspirations to be an international movie star she also happens to be the granddaughter of the village chief.
The next day, I returned to Voen Sai. Not so much to see Voen Sai again, but to visit a couple of the villages that dot the road leading there. I had hoped to find some of the kids I had photographed around the well in Karlai commune. One of those photos has been published twice - including on the front cover of the October 2000 Bayon Pearnik magazine.
I brought a copy of the offending Bayon Pearnik magazine and set out looking for my two kids. Showing the magazine to a number of surprised locals in the vicinity of Karlai, I was led to a pair of huts off in the brush, invisible from the road. We first located the younger of the two girls. She took one look at the magazine and ran away. She returned with the older girl, who expressed the same shock. And together they ran away again. I walked over to the next house and found them hiding in the corner. My first thought was that I had made some tremendous mistake showing up with this magazine cover, but it was anything but. Apparently in Ratanakiri, one expresses excitement and gratitude by running away and hiding in a corner. Conversation with the older girl's mother smoothed things over for me, and I was reassured by all that my visit and the magazine was a good thing.
Voen Sai is no different. The bus continues to make its run to Banlung and back each day. In town a couple of small restaurants provide noodles and rice, though it was a challenge to find one that wasn't patronized by some excessively drunk local men.
On my last day in Ratanakiri,
I walked over to the Banlung market to (hopefully) take some photos. As
usual the shyness of the people in the market rendered almost any photography
impossible unless I wanted to hide behind a log somewhere with a 300 or
400 mm lens. I refuse to do that. After getting just a few shots
I finally gave up when I noticed one woman, 18 The plane was late leaving, as they had to first unload several truckloads of cargo. Given that overland travel is two to three days from Phnom Penh, many items like furniture and appliances are flown in.
--------- return to First Visit continue to Third Visit continue to Practical Information on Ratanakiri All text and photographs © 1998 - 2008 talesofasia.com. Commercial or editorial usage without written permission of the copyright holder is prohibited. |
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