On Yer Bike!

Some of our more avid readers may have noticed that it's all been a bit quiet on the blog recently. There are a number of reasons for this: we've both been busy (no excuse), gathered interesting collections of internal pets (an excellent opportunity for explosive weight loss) and also been on the road quite a bit. This post is about being on the road - not for work but for recreation.

One of the things our little gang of associates here in Phnom Penh like to do is escape from the city at the weekends on our bicycles. Many of us just have the old-fashioned sit-up-and-beg VSO standards, so trips on these tend to stick to the local roads and don't generally go very far. Some of us kings of the road, on the other hand, have mountain bikes and for us the world is our horizon. Why mountain bikes in a country where the word for mountain and very small, almost unnoticeable hummock (phnom) are the same (and for good reason)? Because they have suspension. And, believe me, you need it.

Actually, we're really talking about Perry here - Sarah a) does yoga on Saturdays; b) is busy teaching English on Sunday mornings; c) doesn't have a mountain bike; and d) is far too sensible (as will become apparent, dear reader, as our story unfolds).

A typical trip will see us taking a ferry across the Mekong, sometimes via one of the islands, into the countryside. The ferries are typically full of mopeds and, just occasionally, a car or two. The one below is a really big one by Mekong standards. No, really - most of them are like extraordinarily ancient landing craft that just about have room for one car. Or an unlimited number of mopeds.

It really is quite extraordinary that you can go from a bustling, hectic city on one side of the river to a total rural backwater on the other. You ride on dirt roads, through villages where a foreigner is sometimes quite a big event. Especially a lost one in what even the Cambodians consider to be the middle of nowhere. But, again, more of that anon. Here's a picture of our intrepid explorers (Adam and Becky, plus Perry's bike) on a typical trip. Yes, we are wondering which is the right way.

Most of the riding is done on roads that are mainly used by motorcycles, like the one below. On the left is the Tonle Sap river; the Mekong is about a kilometre away on the right.

These small roads run between the small villages that the great majority of Cambodians live in: only 10% of the population live in large towns (and most of those are in Phnom Penh).

The bike helmets worn by the gang are mainly to keep the sun off! We often share the track with the animal carts that form the main source of trade in many areas. The chap below was selling pots and pans of all sorts from the back of his ox cart: it looked almost like something from a Disney film.

Sometimes, for no apparent reason, the road will get much wider, as in the picture below. But such heady rushes don't usually last long.

Yes, that is a child in a mixing bowl on the back of the bike in front of us. You get to see lots of interesting and unusual sights in rural Cambodia.

And I wonder how many years it has been since anyone last played football on the pitch below. In fact, I wonder if anyone ever did, since it was in the middle of a very small village and Cambodians aren't known for their world-class premier league. Or for playing football at all. Sadly, it was probably some NGO project that, I suspect, was lauded in the press back home as a great success in bringing joy through sport to the disadvantaged people of rural Cambodia.

And then one day, Perry and Adam (a VSO volunteer who is writing a new curriculum for the Ministry of Education) decided to go in a different direction. We had a map that showed that there was an interesting route that went South out of the City (we normally go North), before crossing to the far bank and then turning back North along the river and taking the ferry back across to the centre of Phnom Penh. About 60 km (40 miles) - a nice morning's ride. At least, that was the plan. And to make doubly sure, not only did we take a copy of the route map (a low-resolution print out from Google Earth with some lines scrawled on), but Perry also took along the GPS (yes - a mountain bike with Satnav). And out we set at 7 o'clock on a fine Saturday morning.

Unfortunately, it only took about 10 km to find out that the route (given to us by another cycling group) bore little relationship to reality. We were supposed to follow a small track along the side of the river to the ferry. Unfortunately, the track led instead to a freshly ploughed field. This was not the first time that day that this was to happen to us. No problem, we backtracked for a couple of kilometres and turned inland to the main road. That was sure to take us to the ferry and indeed it did. A ferry, anyway. At this point, we did think to check our location by GPS, as we thought we might have gone a little further than the map suggested. At this point, Perry discovered that the batteries in the GPS were flat. No problem - press on!

We should now start to put things in context. The map below is of the whole of Cambodia. What we ended up doing that day (represented by the red box) is easily measurable on a map of the whole country. In fact, our route was probably traceable from space.

When we got to the far side of the river, we turned left. According to the map, Road No. 151 runs right along the East bank of the River Mekong from the main crossing to the Vietnamese border to the provincial town of Kampong Cham. According to the map. Unfortunately, our section of this major arterial trunk route started to rapidly get smaller and muddier.

And then led into a freshly ploughed field. So we turned back and tried to cut inland for a few kilometres. Straight into a ploughed field. So we turned back again and eventually found a reasonably decent dirt road. Unfortunately, it seemed to be heading away from the river somewhat. At this point,we started to get slightly concerned, so I thumped the GPS and got it to work for long enough to get a fix. OK - only about 39 km to Phnom Penh, no problem.

This little vignette was to be repeated at a number of intervals over the next 7 hours: the only thing that changed was the bearing to Phnom Penh. We had apparently found the Phnom Penh orbital expressway. Unfortunately, it neither went to nor from Phnom Penh, just a constant distance around it. On the wrong side of the River Mekong (did I mention in a previous post that it's one of the biggest rivers in the world?). With no other roads joining it at all.

The map below shows in blue where we had intended to go. With the benefit of hindsight and the most detailed map available, kindly bought for us the following day by Adam's partner Becky (who works for the World Bank and can afford such things) the line in red shows where we actually went. Not 60 km but about 185 (120 miles). We didn't make it back for lunchtime.

But we did see some beautiful sights and met some lovely people in the villages where we stopped for drinks. In one of them, what seemed like the entire village turned out to sit with us. Don't suppose they'd seem many foreigners before. On bikes. Who said they were going to Phnom Penh and was this the right way?

But eventually, there was a junction and we were able to turn back towards the river. And when, after some 10 hours in the saddle, we finally caught sight of the ferry, we were two very slightly relieved teddies.

But the day wasn't over yet: we still had to get back to Phnom Penh. One last thump of the GPS. Oh good, only about 39 km to go. Back onto the main road, where we came directly upon a small stall selling batteries that would fit the GPS - once we actually knew exactly where we were for the first time! And now it was starting to get dark and some ominous looking thunder clouds were looming in the distance (yes, that part of the distance we were trying to head towards - doesn't it always work like that?)

We kept going into the gloom (and, believe me, cycling on an unlit road in Cambodia after dark is not a life-enriching experience) until, about 10 km from the bridge across the Tonle Sap and into the City, the clouds burst with what was a particularly spectacular thunderstorm, even by Cambodian standards. Luckily, we were just passing a little shop, so we dived for cover and considered our options. That took about a nanosecond before I phoned our friend Savin, who drives a tuk tuk (a cross between a moped, a large pram and a taxi) and asked him to come and get us. But even then the day wasn't over: the storm was so severe that Phnom Penh was badly flooded and it took Savin about an hour to get to us, and on the way back through the city both Adam and I agreed that we probably wouldn't have been able to make it through on our bikes.

But finally, at about 9 o'clock, we got back home. What a day out! But what did we learn from the experience? Probably nothing, really. After all, one of us is a management consultant and the other a special needs teacher. We're well beyond any hope of learning

VSO is a leading development charity with almost 1,500 skilled professionals currently working in over 34 countries. VSO's unique approach to international development is founded on volunteers, working together and with local communities to fight poverty and achieve lasting change. If you want to learn more about VSO, please visit www.vso.org.uk

Sarah out of Phnom Penh

In December, I went to Kratie (pronounce Krah Chay) in the East of the country to attend a policy dissemination workshop (aka Watching Paint Dry - Slowly) by the Special Education Office (and yes they are quite Special). The Policy on Education for Children with Disabilities was adopted last March, after a lot of input from my predecessor at DAC, but there is a long journey between adoption, dissemination to the provinces and implementation in the district schools. The issues around this process comprise one of the areas of work Sokhim and I will be concentrating on over the next year or so.

Apparently, it was not so many years ago that Kratie could not be reached except by plane, and one can quite see why as soon as the bus or taxi has to leave the inter-provincial high road. The thick red dust covers everything at this time of year, and there is no road surface, so there is an interesting experience of alternately driving over boulders and dropping into pot holes. Kratie is famous for 2 things - the most beautiful sunsets over the Mekong (here are just 2 of my quite large collection), and for the Irrawaddy freshwater dolphins that live in the Mekong.

The dolphins are under the same ecological pressures as any other species, and their numbers are declining; this place in the Mekong is now their only habitat. I didn't get to see the dolphins after work as you have to go by moto for about an hour to where the dolphins are, by which time it would have been dark coming back - something I would avoid at all costs as I am not yet tired of my life. Not that it stopped Sokhim, who was thrilled to be able to see them. As you can imagine, most Khmer people do not get the chance to travel about for leisure, so they always make the most of any work trip to see a bit of the countryside if there is something interesting. Perry and I will go up for a weekend sometime and take our time as he has not been there yet.

Kratie is a sleepy little river town which I found rather charming, which is not something you can say about most Cambodian towns. Rather unfairly, it also seems to have a reputation among Cambodians for being very dirty, but is is mostly the innumerable small blue plastic bags which are used by everyone for everything and then discarded where they fall. It is the same everywhere, there are no public waste bins, although in some provinces and towns, people do make some effort; it probably depends on the local commune council. There is no municipal waste collection service outside of Phnom Penh (there maybe in Siem Reap as that has tourists for Angkor Wat), so rubbish is either left in piles and/or burned. Don't ask me why, but school grounds often seem to be particularly favoured for this purpose! Here are some of the kids on clean up duty. By the way the big smart pink building is I don't know what - the small, peeling yellow building is the Primary School.

I stayed with our friend Susan (tall wacky Kiwi), who is a midwife, in her lovely, comfortable, and cool, traditional wooden house. As we've said before, Cambodian traditional furniture is, for some unfathomable reason, vast and immovably heavy. This is me, completely stuck in the chair, having foolishly settled down for a read, oh how Susie laughed!

In January, I had a very interesting and enjoyable stay in Battambong (though for reasons that will become clear it will henceforth be known to me as Bottombang). This province lies to the West and has a border with Thailand. It was heavily occupied by the Khmer Rouge, until 1995 in fact, and the population suffered years of nightly rockets going over from the pro Vietnamese forces against the Khmer Rouge. It is quite badly deforested, and again, at this time of year, the red dust is thick as soon as you leave the main town. My visit was dual purpose.

Firstly I was going on a sort of fact finding visit about work in the provincial & district offices in Battambang with other VSO education colleagues from the Policy Level Group. All the provincial volunteers have monthly team meetings, and we had been having something similar in PP, between those of us in placements were we have a direct input to government policy, i.e. the Inspectorate, the Special Education Office, DAC, NEP, the Pedagogical Research Department (basically curriculum reform), Teacher Training, School Health. However, we felt we were wasting our time just telling each other what we were doing, and we have changed our activities to quarterly visits to provinces where VSO work, to see the challenges and successes in real life, and also to communicate directly with some of the grass roots personnel.

We had a really valuable time, being taken to schools supported by our colleagues and meeting provincial ministry staff. We were alternately inspired by achievements, horrified by challenges, and annoyed/depressed, though not at all surprised, by the lack of knowledge and understanding about policies and strategies that we all talk about all the time at central level but which take so long to drip down to where they matter. The dire lack of funding and incentives are a whole other issue of course (see the VT report!)

This is a lower secondary school where the School Director (pictured) does try to follow advice from Jean, our colleague at the PoE (Provincial Office of Education). However, the school is not one of the lucky few supported financially by an NGO, and he does not have the leadership skills to motivate his staff. Frankly you would need quite a lot of motivation. That building you see is one of 3, and in the worst condition. The staff very sensibly refuse to use it when it rains or is windy, as it literally sways around. Try sticking displays of work on those walls, or making the room subject specific...

This is a building sponsored by a British couple at a school where the children all looked well fed and healthy, there was a good lively and interested atmosphere and the staff seemed motivated and supported by their director - which is crucial. As you can see, the building is well kept, but was there a ramp? No. I asked the director why it had been built with no ramp. 'Because there are no children with disabilities at the school' ...Ah - anyone spot the vicious circle in that argument?

This is another building at the school, not quite so nicely maintained as you see.

This young lad with spectacularly muddy legs gazes in at what should really be his classmates. You see a lot of this, kids with no uniform, and probably many other poverty related reasons for not being at school, on the other side of the window. As there is no glass in the way, they probably pick up a smattering of this and that.

Jean, Chris, John and Onno, our VSO colleagues there, and their lovely Khmer Volunteer Assistants, also thought we might like to see some of the ways local people make their livings, so as we traveling between sites, we stopped at a couple of 'cottage' industries. Any guesses as to what this is?

This was a family business making the thin pancakes for spring rolls. A very interesting process, but these photos are taking literally hours to upload, so I can't show you all of it. Basically, a rice flour & water mixture is spread on a griddle, the pancakes are spread out flat to dry on a bamboo rack, and then, as in the second picture, they are propped up to dry. When you want to wrap them round a filling, you soften them with water again. The fire is fed with the rice husks, so it is quite a neat way of using everything.

This child should be at school of course, but his job is to take the dry pancakes off the frames for packaging.

Ah yes, prohok...

This delightful product, along with the precious rice, lies deep in the soul of every Cambodian. In that of anyone in fact, of any nationality native to the Lower Mekong Basin, where the river provides a glut of fish in the rainy season. This is used very sensibly as stored food for when everyone is working long days in the fields in the dry season. Shame it's made of fish though; pounded, fermented, drained, mixed with coarse salt, and stored in jars, to be dished up with anything else handy, or dipped into with green mangoes or other equally unripe, indigestible and mouth puckering fruit and vegetable delicacies. It looks exactly like the sediment from the bottom of a muddy ditch and smells worse. We find it edible in small doses but don't think we are going to bother trying to acquire the taste.

This batch has just been pounded...


This lovely picture below is of Wat Ek Phnom, an 11th century temple to the north of town


'Room for improvement for someone appreciating a challenge in an idyllic woodland setting. The live in caretaker may be seen as a charming quirk'...Judy studies the estate agent's blurb.

The second purpose for the visit was for Adam and I to meet up with Jean and Chris in order to finalise the delightful Education Sector Training. This 2 day event, which I volunteered to help organise in a mad moment of self-induced pressure, knowing that James my predecessor, had done it for the last 2 years, happens once a year and involves all the education volunteers (40) and their assistants (30). The provincial vols have assistants to help them where no one speaks English (everywhere but PP) although this is to be changed to an ad hoc basis next year, when translation is 'particularly needed', and everyone will have to get pretty fluent in Khmer - frankly I don't envy them at all.

I won't bore myself or you with any details but suffice it to say that I volunteered from PP, Jean & Chris volunteered but are 6-7 hours away in Battambang, and I roped Adam in because he is a jolly good chap with plenty of energy and good humour, he and Becky are friends of ours (even though she works at the World Bank which we love to hate), and mostly because I am the Captain of our bi-weekly quiz team and he is a lowly cabin boy who has to do what I say. Ha Ha Ha! As we were going to be in BB until Saturday morning anyway, and it is a 6 hour bus journey away, Adam & I decided to stay on and finalise all the plans with Jean & Chris, and to also do some sight seeing before and after our planning meetings.

This is Adam just after we arrived on motos at the world famous (well in Battambang anyway) Bamboo Railway. Our friend Caroline used to live in BB and I innocently asked her if there was a timetable or where you bought tickets, oh how she laughed. There are rails. Having seen what it entails, I think Adam was making what he might have feared was a fond farewell call to Becky.

This is a group of 'passengers' disappearing into the red dust haze before us. At this point Adam said 'Those rails look a bit wibbly wobbly don't they'. We then had a brief exchange during which I made it quite clear that we would no longer be using words like wibbly wobbly, but instead focusing on reassuring phrases such as 'sturdy construction' and 'perfectly safe'. Note there are a lot of people on that 'train'.

This was our trusty driver. We felt we could tell, by his awesomely cheesy grin, that he had done this many times before. Please note the rock on the platform, which is balanced on 2 sets of wheels. At this point I asked Adam what he thought the rock was for. I felt that my suggestion of an emergency brake was slightly more optimistic, if possibly less realistic, than his one which was that it was for smashing us into unconsciousness before stealing all our possessions. We actually grew to respect Mr. Cheese as being a man of quiet authority and iron determination. We sat down on the platform; just the 2 of us...

We decided that possession of the rock tokened some sort of unspoken supremacy, as more often than not, when we met another 'train' coming the other way - this is what they had to do for us, see below: the platform is lifted off the wheels, then they are taken off the rails. On this occasion we performed the manouevre for them and their big bags of hay. It was at this point that I actually began to wonder how the platform was attached to the axles.

However, I chose not to voice that concern until we were hurtling (and I do not use that word lightly) along at what seemed like 60m/hr. I turned to Adam who was gripping on to the rail with a certain determination and with an even more set look to his manly jaw than normal. I waited until my bottom had made contact with the bamboo platform yet again (Bottombang) and for a split second thought it might be safe to speak without putting my teeth through my lip, so put the question burning in my mind.

'It isn't actually fixed on Sarah, it's held down by our weight.' Oh...right...just the 2 of us then.'

We arrived at our final destination, a brick works, again run by a family and very interesting to see the process from beginning to end. This is not sand between the kilns but rice husks, which is also used as the fuel inside and it must act as very good insulation.

I tried not to think of the horrendous fire hazard of the whole place. I have become the Health & Safety Queen since being here, which is a bit of a lost cause!

Aha! I have identified our new VSO off road vehicle.

'And here's one I made earlier'. Anyone familiar with Playdough machines will recognise this device. It looked really ancient and, incredibly, appeared to be the only one there. Gave a whole new twist to that Khmer proverb we have all come to learn and dread...

'Muoy muoy', step by step - but literally, 'one one'.


We returned on the train for another death defying experience and got off with a certain sense of reckless joy at having survived.

Below is the view from the top of Phnom Sampeu, a hill some 15 k outside Battambang town. It has a violent history, although is very peaceful now, with several pagodas along the steep climb to the summit. The top one was used as a prison and interrogation centre by the Khmer Rouge. You can see the thickly forested Thai border in the background, and the horrible deforestation on the Cambodian side. I'm sure that is why everything is covered with red dust like gritty talc.

We hired a tuk tuk to drive us there in time to have a climb to the top, look at the view, and then see what we had really come for, the sight of millions of small bats streaming out at dusk (5.45) from a large limestone cave in the side of the hill; the Bat Cave as I not unreasonably termed it. The trouble was, that the title brought back happy memories of a misspent childhood watching Batman (the original telly series of course), and a secret envy of my little brother's batmobile toy. Adam had to remind me several times throughout the day that we were not going to meet the Superhero, or his sidekick, and that there probably wouldn't be a dumb waiter in the cave and a trusty manservant called Alfred. I'm not sure I totally gave up on the idea until I had to though.

The journey there was phenomenal. We stopped on the outskirts of Bottombang to get fuel, and for our driver, Yan, to ask in a rather casual way if we too wanted to buy face masks for the dust. In PP we have got used to seeing lots of people wearing these to guard against the fumes, completely uselessly, most often the same people who drive their motos with one hand while talking on their mobiles and clutching a baby or 2. We spurned his offer in a likewise casual way. We got there completely caked in light red dust, Adam bearing a startling resemblance to Boris Becker, with thick ginger eyelashes, and me with hair that you could literally sculpt into any shape - most entertaining. We also spent at least half of the journey airborne as we lurched from one pot hole to the next and then felt our spines reconfigure on landing.

Yan triumphantly delivered us in a small village at the base of the hill, conveniently outside the house of a chap who was very keen to offer us a variety of services. We had been briefed by our friends, and already knew that we could find the path up the hill easily enough, and get back in time to see the bats leave. Neither of us were interested in seeing the Killing Cave, having also felt no compulsion to visit either the Killing Fields near PP, or Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum near our house. We have both however had experience of what are fondly known as the Killing Taxis on visits out to the provinces.

However we had to spend a good while going through all the options; motos, strings of small children to guide us etc, and why we should avail ourselves of them; we would get lost, be too late to see the bats, miss lots of interesting things. Strangely enough no one ever mentioned land mines which I LATER found out used to (at least I assume used to as we were not blown to smithereens) infest the whole hillside. Also, if we didn't use him, we would have to pay the Tourist Police $2 each. Ha! ...this fib was his downfall, as I knew well that we would have to pay them anyway, but would only be charged $1 with our VSO cards. We have also experienced being 'guided' by small Cambodian children, which consists of being grilled, in voices of grim concentration, 'Whatisyournamewhereyoufromhowoldyouare' for the duration of the tour. After our rather harrowing ride, we were more in the mood for a quiet stroll, a bit of a view and then a David Attenborough moment with the bats.

We declined politely and immediately came to a hut next door wherein sat a very dapper looking Tourist Police Officer. We presented our cards, paid our $1, and then followed my favourite conversation so far in Cambodia. 'You are here to see the bats?', 'Yes', 'You want to go up hill?', 'Yes', 'You want to visit Killing Cave?', 'No thank you', 'I will hire you a small boy'. There was a moment of silence where I desperately avoided catching Adam's eye while actually considering the many ways in which a small boy would be quite a useful thing to have around the place. Adam said, in a slightly regretful tone I felt, that we would not be requiring a small boy. The policeman sadly waved us in the direction of the path, washing his hands of us. Annoyingly my camera battery went flat, so I could only take one picture from the summit. I noticed a large gun placement in surprisingly good nick on a ledge with East German writing on it, a sobering reminder that the hill was still in the front line of fighting only 14 years ago.

We got ourselves down to the bat cave at 5.40, the first twitterings began and a couple of bats flitted out. At 5.45 an amazing thing began. A steady stream of bats began to emerge, in a ribbon no more than 3 foot wide and headed out over the trees.They flew in a sort of spiral effect, very like when you twirl a garden hose slightly when you spray it. Apparently there are 2 million of them, they take 3 hours to fully emerge, and then start coming back in at 3am. I was cursing my lack of camera, but how's this for luck! Our friend Caroline from PP, formerly resident in Battambong, just happened to have taken her mother to BB for the weekend while she was over from UK, and they were the only other people watching the bats with us, having arrived while we were on the hill. She took the video you can see below, and I was able to copy it from her.

Yan was understandably anxious to get going as it was getting dark. What a return journey! Firstly there was a sight I will never forget, and it would have been so easy to miss. We were already belting down the 'road' raising a cloud of dust when Adam called me to look back. Across the flat plain, like black smoke or a swarm of bees, streamed the ribbon of bats, southwards for miles and miles. And to think that happens every single dusk and dawn - I suppose you would get used to it...? For some reason, maybe because it was now dark as well as foggy with dust, the journey back was even worse than on the way there. We arrived back at the hotel with that exhilarated delight in still being alive for the second time in one day, and a certainty that the measly $12 Yan had charged us probably wouldn't even cover the cost of all the bits that had dropped off his tuk tuk.

VSO is a leading development charity with almost 1,500 skilled professionals currently working in over 34 countries. VSO's unique approach to international development is founded on volunteers, working together and with local communities to fight poverty and achieve lasting change. If you want to learn more about VSO, please visit www.vso.org.uk

Sarah in Phnom Penh

It has been a shamefully long time since I have recorded anything here about my work - too busy writing reports about it all at work after I've done it! After returning from UK in September, I had a whirlwind week or so at NEP having high level meetings and consultations about the recommendations and promoting them in the Valuing Teachers report that I had spent 6 months writing. I was helped in this process by a British MP, Angus McNeill, who was able to talk to the Ministers as a fellow politician, and ex teacher, and generally we presented as quite a good team. I'm pretty sure the report would have had a good reception anyway, as the Secretary of State was already on side, but the publicity shots and telly opportunities the MP visit provided, didn't do any harm at the higher level.

Once I started my new job at the Disability Action Council (DAC), I still had to make time to finalise and copy edit the report, which was a rather bitty and lengthy process with editions going between here and London, but ...it is published finally, and in hard copy. It is not quite how I originally envisaged it, and has, of necessity, had much taken out, but I think I was able to keep the main messages in. Here is the link, for any of you who would like to read it: "Teaching Matters"

Here are some pictures of a couple of the things I have been involved in in and around Phnom Penh since starting with the Disability Action Council. At the end of October we had a little leaving party for James, my predecessor, and here I am with my friend Seka, who is the Livelihoods Program Officer.

We are all being serenaded by the lovely Sokhim, who is my counterpart, the Education Officer. Like most Khmer men, he has a very nice singing voice and an expectation that he will take his turn in singing along to the ever present karaoke machine which accompanies every Khmer social occasion from birth to death. Some evenings can feel just like that too. I like to think that Sambath (behind us in the picture above) just had something in his teeth, rather than expressing his feelings about the singing.

This is James receiving his farewell gift from our Executive Director, Vinal. It's time to have a rest James after all your hard work... no really, it is!

One of the first organisations I visited after I started there was the Lavalla School. This was started by an Australian NGO many years ago and is a good example of how children with physical disabilities can get an education with the right support. The building itself, apart from being spotlessly clean (all done by the staff and students themselves) and very well maintained (which does of course cost money practically unavailable to government schools), is no different in structure to the standard school in Cambodia. Ramps for access and desks with enough room underneath, mean that students in wheelchairs can sit in the classroom quite normally.

That is of course once the students have been identified in their communities, shown a motivation to get an education and their families encouraged and supported to enable them to come to the school. The idea is to fast track them through at 2 grades a year, so that they can finish primary ed in 3 years and then go on to a local secondary school or into the vocational training programme affiliated to the school. There are several students in their mid 20s at the school, and most are over the usual school entry age, although that can be as late as 8 anyway.

Many children from the provinces live in the school, some more local are fostered locally with support from Lavalla, and some are brought in by minibus. The children below were this year's intake, not yet in their school uniform, and all delighted and enthusiastic to be starting their education.

This is the dining area - must be the cleanest spot in Cambodia!

In January, Sokhim and I were delighted to be invited to the opening of an Integrated Classroom for children with intellectual disabilities at a primary school to the south of Phnom Penh, funded by HAGAR, an NGO who does much great work among the most vulnerable and marginalised people in society: displaced families, ex trafficked children and very poor families.

There is so much extreme need in the disability sector, the poverty/disability cycle is so strong, that when you hear the stories of these children, you wonder if they would be disabled at all if they had been born into better conditions. Severe anaemia (from malnutrition/wrong feeding) causes irreversible brain damage if not treated before the age of 2, and conditions such as cerebral palsy are often avoidable with adequate pre-natal and delivery care at birth. I'm pretty sure most of the cases of polio, blindness and deafness could have been prevented with immunisation, better hygiene and treatment of simple childhood infections. Any level of basic education would help too.

One of the things local NGOs do is find some of these poor children locked away in their houses, try and convince the families there is some hope and point in basic therapy/exercise/communication etc. and then aim to get these children into an integrated class in a local school. Families in dire need are helped with things like water filters, and parents paid a small amount to assist with the children in the classroom. I have heard of amazing transformations of children who did not react to anything and who had never sat up or fed themselves, after a few months, able to sit or walk and to engage or talk with people and to enjoy their school activities. (The sun did shortly move round out of their faces by the way, I was getting worried about them too at this point!)

The girls performing this opening ceremony dance apparently all have dreadful histories of one sort or another, and were 'rescued' into HAGAR's social programme where they were given shelter and training in lifeskills and Camdodian traditional arts.

Here is the ramp up to the classroom and the accessible toilet to the left. Toilets in schools are a real issue at the best of times, and not having separate ones for girls and/or the ones that are there being unusable or permanently locked is a contributory factor to girls not going to secondary school especially.

These little chaps were onlookers at the ceremony and part of the mainstream school. It was great to see them totally engrossed in a book.

Well, that is just a brief glimpse at a couple of the things I have been involved with. Long meetings, workshops and hours in the office are also essential components of my work but don't make great telling or photos!

These last photos are a bit of a cheat as they are not from Phnom Penh, and not work related, but there already enough photos on the next blog which is all about me out of PP. A group of us joined in with the Angkor Wat Half Marathon at the beginning of December. When I say 'joined in' I mean ran the 10k race. Susan, the great tall thing with the yellow label on in the middle of the picture, did run the half marathon in very good time, but hey, she's a Kiwi with 6 brothers so she's used to running.


It was a fantastic experience, running through the forested temple complex not long after dawn, with other Westerners but also 1700 Khmer nationals, many of whom were disabled. (I never did quite catch up with that one speedy little amputee who stayed just ahead of me all the time). There were also plenty of spectators and a wonderful atmosphere. Phil and I had gone up for the weekend and were staying quite a way from Angkor Wat and a bit out of town. I will always remember cycling on our borrowed bikes, with one dodgy light between us, through the commune just as people were beginning to stir before dawn. Just for that 10 minutes or so, it felt like it could have been centuries ago...

Wow that feels good!

Leonie trying to convince me & Kate that we've only got halfway at the finishing line - oh how Phil laughed!


Me carb loading on pasta the night before - nice!


More soon - and Perry has some more tales to tell as well...

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