Very early on 1 July, then, Perry jumped in the truck with the rest of the office and headed off to a tiny village on a lake in Kampong Chhnang for the Fish Day Ceremony. In fact, it was so early that the fruit bats were still flapping across Phnom Penh on their way home to roost. On the way, we saw a real picture of Cambodian rural life: paddy fields being tilled by oxen while the family followed behind planting the rice shoots in the water; pony carts taking harvested rice to market, and water buffalos pulling huge carts of all and sundry slowly along dirt tracks past small wooden houses on stilts. Almost no cars, very few motorcycles and lots of children (and adults) on bicycles. All very idyllic sounding, until you remember that this is all that these people in the countryside have. Unlike Perry Townmouse, they're not just having a nice day out.
After a few hours, we arrived at the lake where the ceremony was to be held. As always in Cambodia, a band was playing Cambopop much too loud. (Actually, in my humble opinion, just thinking about playing it is probably too loud.) Still, you can't beat a good bit of feedback at 110 decibels for making you feel better when it stops.
And one third of their sound equipment. Where they got the power from is a mystery - no wonder we keep getting power cuts in Phnom Penh.
Having been blasted clear by the audio version of shock and awe, the chaps approach the venue for the event: two very large covered seating areas, for perhaps 5,000 people, facing a stage. The seating areas are rapidly filling up with everything from local villagers to gold-encrusted senior police officers (not something you really want to encounter too much of in Cambodia).
A small item of ancillary information is now introduced by Perry's colleagues: he is a VIP and his presence is required on stage! He tries to sneak to the back but to no avail. Come and sit up front here, where you can be right next to His Excellency. By now, it's too late to cry out "what else haven't you told me?" so he does what he is told, sits down and picks up what looks for all the world like a nice gizzit bag that has been placed on all the "VIP" chairs.
For what happened from now on, you need to know that Cambodia is currently in the full fling of a run-up to a General Election. Government and Politics in Cambodia never separate. The gizzit bag turns out to be full of copies in Khmer of all the laws pertaining to Fisheries, plus copies in English of the speeches that are going to be given (which are mainly about what a wonderful job the Cambodian People's Party (CPP) has done in writing all these laws and what a great job it's doing in general). First speech is going to be by the Director General of the Fisheries Administration. No problem, he's a well respected and personable chap who Perry has met on a few occasions. He's also a political appointee, but that's par for the course.
But he's just the warm up man. As Perry reads the rest of the running order, he discovers that this is the 6th National Fish Day. All have been presided over by the Prime Minister, His Excellent Excellency (and many other honorifics) Hun Sen. Reformed Khmer Rouge officer (no, not joking - look him up on-line) and capo di tutti cape in Cambodia for more than 20 years. Now, bear in mind that both VSO and the British Embassy have strongly advised all of us to avoid any political events in the run up to the election. But hurrah! - because of the election, he's not coming today. Nonetheless, there's no real escape for our hero: Hun Sen's delegated it to his deputy, who also happens to be the Minister for Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries. So Perry's on stage, 2 seats away from the Number 2 man in the CPP, in front of 5,000 people. Oh, and the news cameras have just turned up. That's good. Hope the Ambassador's watching.
Now Perry notices that there's also a group of Buddhist monks on the stage. Unlike Burma, in Cambodia the monks are not political; it's just that they're all staring at him and muttering to each other. He never does find out why: the initial essential check confirms that his flies are indeed done up. Mind you, in a country where many people are not much over 5 feet and 40 kilos, perhaps they're just running a sweep on when the part of the stage that he's sitting on is going to collapse. Now the wheels arrive and take their places on the stage (And blessed are they that go round in circles, for they shall be called wheels). The role of the monks now becomes clear: they are there to give a blessing to the ceremony. Quite fascinating - lots of beautiful rhythmic chanting whilst strewing around what looked like popcorn (but probably wasn't) from out of copper bowls.
Now the speeches begin and they're everything you would expect them to be, and in Khmer.
The Minister doing what politicians do best.
Us VIPs then trooped down between the two seating areas to conduct the fish releasing ceremony. All the way down there was applause from the crowd and salutes from the large contingent of military policemen that were lining the route. At the end was a jetty where there were three large tanks of fish fry and quite a few hand-held nets.
Our task was to scoop the fish out of the tanks and release them into the lake, where they would live free until they were all caught and eaten. Some of the local kids were already waiting for them.
And then it was over. Perry was found by his colleagues, who at least bought him a beer at a nearby roadside emporium before heading back to Phnom Penh.
The lake was beautiful, though.
We'll close now with the four kinds of Buddhist benediction that Khmer people wish each other: Longevity, Beauty, Health and Strength.
Oh well, at least we're still alive, healthy and kicking.
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1 comment:
Nice to see that Pezza is finally recognised for being the talent that he really is. Was the last time Pezza trod the boards in the Falklands? If so, I'm surprised they let him back on any stage. :)
I like the amplification sitting on the logs. Sounds like you risked your life getting near enough to take a photo.
Happy Fish day.
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