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IN a radical departure from Connect’s usual emphasis on the local, this installment of MATT HARVEY’s Bard’s Eye View comes from a little farther afield... well, Cambodia, actually. Yes, hot (very) and exclusive, our very own foreign correspondent files his first, and probably last, overseas report...
YES, for reasons which will become clear, this comes direct from Cambodia, from a sweaty man in an internet cafe. In a bold inversion of eco-wisdom, my wife and I have been thinking locally while acting globally - which is okay to do now and again, though done continuously it can lead to US foreign policy.
So this is a postcard from Cambodia. There’s so much, too much to say, so I’ll limit myself. I won't talk about the scars left by the Khmer Rouge and the ensuing civil war, which left Cambodia devastated and economically far behind its IndoChinese neighbours. I won't dwell on the beauty of Angkor Wat, the extraordinary achievement of the Khmer Empire of 10th-15th centuries, hailed as the 8th wonder of the world. I will mention in passing the touching generosity, friendliness and all-round shininess shown us by the Khmer people everywhere we go.
But mainly I’ll cover the heat, the traffic, and why we’re here at all.
IT'S hot here. It hits you as you step off the plane, wraps round you, embraces you, the force of it props you up. You can drink all you like, but your wee will never run clear. And you sweat - in the 40-degree heat of Angkor Wat, sweat pours off me, relentless rivulets forming and flowing as if I‘m a source of natural spring salt water. I feel part-man, part butter-sculpture.
AND the traffic. A vital aspect of the nation’s character is expressed by the range and movement of vehicles. I think the Cambodian Highway Code says: ‘drive on the right, mostly; be yourself; don’t rush; and don’t worry - be happy’. Have you ever seen happy traffic? It’s happy here. It’s also unworried.
There are equations from Chaos Theory and Quantum mechanics that describe and predict the flow of the streets of phnom Penh. Women (and monks) sit side-saddle on mopeds - called ‘motos’ here - sometimes with tiny children on their laps. Or a toddler will sit behind daddy, hanging onto his shirt, or more often ride at the front, hands on handlebar as if steering. They must all feel pretty safe. Maybe because it’s so unhurried.
Whole families pile onto one moto - four is common, five not uncommon, I’ve seen six. Then they’re off, weaving in and out of bicycles, cyclos (tricylces with seat on front), tok-toks (motos with trailer) and cars. Tending vaguely to the right but, where necessary, turning point blank into on-coming traffic, which flows around and past them, like a physics experiment. Pedestrians step out into the stream and amble across the road, unhurt, brushed but never bashed by passing metal. Not while I was watching.
It’s a forward-looking society, so there are no wing-mirrors, just lots of beeping. What on our roads is mostly a form of fist-shaking is over here more self-expressive. It’s sort of multi-intentional, omni-directional and 99% rage-free. Beep beep! Coming through! Beep beep! Ready or not! Beep beep! Look at me! Beep beep! I’m alive! Beep beep! Same here! Beep beep! My aunt’s had a baby! Beep beep! I’ve got new sandals! Beep beep! Mind out, four generations coming through on a scooter! Beep beep! Pardon? Beep beep! Geronimo!
No-one stops at junctions. Dense streams of traffic flow through each other, giving way here but not there, edging, inching, thrusting, stealing, creeping, beeping, nibbling, insinuating their vehicle into the gaps. If every vehicle were to pull a thread of yarn throughout its journey an intricate hard-wearing fabric would be woven.
ENOUGH, too much, about that. I wanted to say why we’re here, connecting Connect with Cambodia. There’s a Devon link besides us. Friends Tony and Lucy live in South Brent, where Lucy manages the Mare and Foal Sanctuary. Pat works there too. When Lucy told Pat of our planned trip she said Matt and Heather should contact her daughter, Colette, who lives in Phnom Penh. We did.
Colette and husband Tim met us at the airport and have looked out for us ever since. They’ve shown us round, supported us in our quest, had us to dinner, where we’ve met their two sons and their adopted Cambodian daughter, Sarey.
And that is what brings us here. Our journey started early last year when we began an Overseas Adoption Home Study with Devon Social Services. Much trial, tribulation and red tape later, we received a letter from the Cambodian Ministry of Social Affairs, Labour, Vocation and Youth Rehabilitation (MOSALVY), asking us to consider the adoption of eight-month-old twin boys from Kais village orphanage. We said yes. They’re asleep in our apartment as I write.
They’re beautiful boys. An independent survey said they are the best boys in South East Asia, possibly in the Northern Hemisphere, probably in the world. Which to be honest we knew already.
By the time this hits the positive streets of Devon and Cornwall, if ever, we may even be home. We are very proud. We are
Matt Harvey
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