The Embassy visit

Six of us met in front of the new Australian Embassy on Tuesday to prepare for a meeting with the Third Secretary and the head of AusAID. Our purpose was to encourage further action to assist the 150,000 Cambodians currently facing forced eviction from their homes due to land grabbing and development.


A short 20 metre walk around the Embassy's 2 metre high wall took us to a community of around 90 families that is under threat of eviction - Group 78. The land has been valued at $14million. The community has been offered a package totalling $400,000 or be forcibly moved to a relocation site 20kms outside of Phnom Penh.

We sat down in blue plastic chairs at the closest tarpolin-roofed "diner", sipping cold waters over brief introductions prior to the meeting lead by Lisa H (see photo). One woman ran a project at the relocation sites where the former neighbours of Group 78 were violently taken three years ago and who still don't have electricity or running water. Two others live in poor communities that are facing eviction in a number of years. The rest of us were hoping our presence at the meeting would be suggestive of the great interest amongst the Australian expat community.


Issues were discussed and questions were divvied up before we headed into the cold bleak modern building. The Embassy staff had moved in only one week ago and we were apparently the first guests to use the Brisbane Room (which was a remarkably similar size to the 6x4m plots of land being provided at the relocation site).


My mp3 player and phone were kept "safe" at the front desk, but there wasn't much to record anyway. The meeting went something like this.


Blah blah BLAH we're monitoring the situation blah blab blab don't get involved in individual cases blah BLAH blah speaking directly to various members of Government blah BLAH hmmm.


It was disappointing. While they indicated their interest in identifying new opportunities to act, they declined our offer to visit the relocation site or fund coordinated advocacy efforts. No mention of the issue is made in the soon-to-be-released country strategic plan and the new wording within the 2009 budget which aims to provide vulnerable groups with "access to justice" was just extra words and didn't reflect a desire to actually do it.


I thought his one final word of advice was odd "just don't write any letters to the editor". However, I've just read that at the national food security forum held that same day the Cambodian PM stated that a number of foreigners have wrong views and are creating friction between the governments of the two countries involved. In the current environment where newspaper's are being forced to shut down and editors are being jailed for "misinformation", speaking publically on the issue could be a good way to get a fast ticket home.

The Third Secretary's advice was timely and perhaps his (and our) efforts are beginning to challenge the status quo after all.

One for the Mums

I wrote this one over two and a half years ago, before I had a blog (with a self-imposed word limit) and before Mr Happy was born. I stumbled on it again recently and thought I would post it. The land issue is particularly timely as I go to the Aussie Embassy tomorrow to speak to them about land evictions (something this "at-home" Mum can do). Any prayers appreciated...

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As an at home Mum with two children, I have been asked by other Mothers in Australia "what difference is there between me and you?" In essence, there is little difference. I am a Mum, who wants to reach out to others with the love of Jesus in whatever situations I can.

It's the context that is vastly different. I am trying to be a friend cross-culturally in a language I am still learning (although I pretty good at chatting). I am raising my children in a challenging living environment and must teach them how to live across two (even three) worlds. But most of all, it is the people that are uniquely different. Each woman here has a remarkable story of traying to make a life for herself and her family.

Take my friend, Bun. I have known her for about five years from when we first visited Cambodia. She was newly married then. Now, she has two children but six months ago lost her husband to cancer.

I have listened to her heartache and cried with her many times through the pain of loss, uncertainty and loneliness. I have prayed with her and try to encourage her, but most of all I just try to listen and be a friend.

Today, her loss was raw and while my two munchkins raced around making their own games, I listened again. And we cried.

For Christmas, she and her children went to visit the beach with her former boss who was visiting the country. She had been nervous, but was determined that her kids get their first glimpse of the ocean. They had loved it! Also, the sea air was a tonic for her youngest who had been plagued by ill-health for many months.

While there she also visited some of her husband's friends with whom he had bought some land when they were first married. However, they didn't have good news for her. The land purchased by her husband had been stolen by a powerful businessman to further his business interests in the area (palm oil). It's a common story in Cambodia - the rich steal from the poor and then pay off the authorities. Any attempts by communities and activists to secure justice are blocked by the courts. Some even receive death threats of the non-idle kind.

For my friend, the 15 hectares are not as important as the fact that another link to her husband was cruelly severed. Before he even fell sick, he had tried to provide for his family's future, but it was stolen away. And that hurts her deeply.

My friend is fortunate that her former bosses sponsor her children to attend school. She continues to work to pay her day-to-day bills. Her own family and her husband's family also love her deeply and try to support her as best they can. But in her culture, tears are a sign of weakness and so often she is alone in her pain. So, I am a friend who can do little but listen and cry with her, together we are weak, but I pray that our times together will strengthen her.

I know they strengthen me. They strengthen my resolve to learn language, to pray, to be a light and friend to my fellow Mums.

Just in case I was getting proud of my newly-developed fitness...

Yesterday, Princess (now 6) commented over lunch “Mummy and Daddy are so different!” Expecting a gem, I asked her how we were different. Pointing to her Dad’s muscular chest, she replied “Dad’s got big breasts”.

Then today, she decided not to eat the two pieces of fruit required before she could have a whole peanut butter cookie. “I’ll just have half because I don’t want to get fat”. I told her that it was unlikely she’ll have a problem with that. “Look at Mum and Dad. Are we fat?” Her reply “Well Mummy, you do have fat legs…”

I’m now waiting for the inevitable third strike that will send me to the dugout to sit on the bench with the rest of the flat-chested, fat-thighed, old and ugly Mummies. Innings over! Time to cheer on the next generation.

Puff and buff

The pictured shoes were my Mother’s Day present that I am working hard to deserve - no, not as a mother, as a runner.

Around three months ago I began running three times a week at the local sports club. It’s the first time since being in Cambodia that I have been able to find a regular form of exercise (apart from Saturday afternoon touch footy).

While I love sports, I normally hate running. But through the casual comment of a friend who offered to run with me when we go back to Australia, I suddenly have an aim – to get fit enough to run with her. But through the process, I’ve become addicted to the numbers… 1km, 2km, 3km, 10mins, 20mins, 30mins. I’m now regularly doing 5-6kms and working to improve my time.

The newly opened sports club services a growing market for rich Khmer and foreigners seeking to work off the extra kilos that accumulate with wealth. Although some members work hard on avoiding exercise, there are also a number of very determined people who are teaching themselves how to swim. Some sink. Some float. All employ whatever technique it takes to move forward. Their courage is often my inspiration to keep running when I’d rather stop for a walk (or lie down).

Each session as I search for a machine near a fan (and still manage to splatter it with sweat), I also note with irony the construction workers outside building a new extension to the gym area. Their glistening buff bodies are surely the envy of all who workout here.

Fighting despair

In a speech at an anti-corruption concert held on May 30, the US Ambassador to Cambodia Carol Rodley sparked an uproar when she said that the Cambodian Government loses up to $500 million in public funds every year because of corruption.

The concert organisers were pulled in for questioning. Public letters from high level Government officials were sent to advise her that this is not how an Ambassador should speak. And a comedy skit by a well-known comedian (who also happens to be a colonel in the Prime Minister’s personal bodyguard unit) ridiculed local human rights groups for profiting from insulting the Government has been playing daily on three TV networks.

Three days after the concert, Transparency International released its annual corruption barometer revealing that over the last year almost half of Cambodian families have paid bribes, as did three quarters of those who dealt with the judicial system.

From what I could see, no media outlet asked the question as to whether the figures were accurate. No Government statements were made accounting for their income and expenditure. No one dared to dig further. Smoke, mirrors, lights and the issue is closed. The average citizen is no wiser and life will continue on as always. Meanwhile, non-Government organisations (NGOs) are increasingly viewed with suspicion as we seek to serve and assist the exploited poor of this country.

It’s a discouraging scenario for someone considering being involved in seeking social justice.

However, I am rebuked and encouraged by the words of Gary Haugen in his book “Good News about Injustice”.

In the Screwtape Letters, an ingenious reflection on the forces that drain the lifeblood from Christian faith, C.S. Lewis makes a startling statement. He writes that “Despair is a greater sin than any of the sins that provoke it”. And surely for Christians who look at our incredibly evil world of injustice and oppression, despair can always be found lurking at the door of our hearts, waiting to hobble us the moment we begin to take our first steps forward.

In taking one of my first steps forward, I am hoping to meet with the Australian Embassy this week with a number of Aussie friends. We hope to encourage Australia to speak out and act against the unlawful land evictions occurring amongst poor communities here (Group 78 is one community marked for eviction right next to the new Australia Embassy as reported by Dateline). I am told that previous meetings by local NGOs have not been productive.

While I use my previous knowledge and skills in Government policy to seek justice, I need to develop yet another more essential skill – the ability to fight off despair.

Gentle servanthood

I’ve been a bit quiet lately, because I’m rediscovering the world of pen and paper - a diary for some thoughts best kept to myself. However, one entry this week was particularly significant (and a bit emotional .. so I’ve edited a little).

7.15am Thursday 27 May 2009 Kloth (known as Malaky to his family) died. His death leaves an empty chair at our team office, an ache in our hearts and a gaping hole in the Universe for his family. As I was told many times, “Malaky loved his Mum”.

Cancer of the liver (a curiously common disease here) had destroyed his insides and only 10 days after he left work it had eaten him out. There was nothing the doctors could do – it was too far gone.

Only 34. So young. Too young to die. Even the Khmer are known to comment.. “The good die young”. And he was good.

Although he was the only Christian in his immediate family (making him an embarrassment and outcast) and fifth of nine brothers and sisters, he was also one of its pillars supporting a younger sister and brother through their studies. I’m sure most of his money went to the rest of the family living in the province. He loved them with all he had and never even got the chance to marry despite his reasonable pay packet.

It was his dedication that seems to be his undoing. He would not stop work, even though he seemed to recover somewhat when he did get a break. His family now blames us. In their grief they cannot see their own complicity in his death – their reliance on his income so that he wouldn’t, he couldn’t, stop work. Now they have neither him nor his income. Their loss is huge.

At the funeral, his father reminisced with a mix of pride and grief while we quietly sipped softdrinks with chunks of melting ice. His mother was too grief stricken to receive us and kept a tearful vigil by his body.

One guest asked to see his face – the white sheet was drawn back to reveal his face, yellow and fragile with colourless eyes half open keeping an eye on proceedings. He’s making sure his family honours his final wish for his ashes being scattered where the four rivers meet in front of the royal palace. They will cremate him tonight at home, framed by banana trees on a bed of charcoal fuelled by petrol.

Kloth (a Khmer spelling for “Claude”) will no longer greet us at the office, reminding us of unpaid postage for parcels and visas due for renewal. He won’t be able to encourage me in my language efforts or smile gently (then wearily) as we chatted.

He’s now free – in peace and without pain. He’s gone to be with Jesus – the other Gentle Servant who gave His all.

They're the people that you meet...

A while ago now, I worked up the guts to take my camera out onto my street. No, I’m not afraid of thieves, I just hate doing the “tourist thing” with my neighbours. But I realise that most of you will never get a chance to come and see this place so I shyly asked each of the people along my way to school to pose for a photo that I could send to my “brothers and sisters in Australia”. They too were quite shy but gave me some brilliant smiles. ... They were particularly pleased when I gave them each a copy of the best photos.

Introducing… the guy waiting to cook noodle lunches for the volleyball players on our corner.

The lady selling sesame flavoured waffles for 200riel (5cents) each

The motodop drivers waiting at the t-intersection for morning clients (my brother danced cheek to cheek with the one on the far left).


The convenience store where I get my phone cards and small packets of milo for fussy visitors.

Breakfast is served by the lady who's daughter managed to marry "up" so that she no longer sells breakfast out the front of her place. (I went to the Wedding and the daughter didn't seem so pleased...).

Tyre pumps and repairs (with an extra charge for the unsuspecting foreigners).

Our Wednesday afternoon treat… deep fried bananas cooked over a charcoal fire. (love the smile)

With plenty of other snacks... equally unhealthy.

Although the walk to school is barely 150 meters, it can sometimes take a long time to get there.