Loving and leaving Phnom Penh

It seems appropriate to start our last blog talking about the birth place of Phnom Penh, our home for the last two and a half years.

Wat Phnom is a pagoda standing on a mound that is meant to be the founding spot of Phnom Penh. It stands 27 metres tall and its lit-up pristine whiteness ensures it stands out as a landmark at night. A decade ago, no building in Phnom Penh was allowed to be higher than the top of Wat Phnom. A friend described how you could look out across the skyline of Phnom Penh and see a canopy of trees only punctuated by the spires of pagoda. Phnom Penh was a pearl of South East Asia.

Wat Phnom. The stark white stone against the night sky is quite majestic. You don't have to be tall to stand out from the crowd.

From our rooftop (our building has ground to second floor) I can see 18 tall buildings being constructed. These are easy to spot because of the green mesh netting they have around them to stop debris falling into other properties. I would probably be able to see more if it were not for two already constructed apartment towers on the other side of the street blocking part of my view.

If you're living next to it, the noise of construction can continue seven days a week, starting early in the morning. The doors and windows, open to let cool air into the house, also let in the noise of grinders and machines. Foreigners, particularly, are irked by this but as a Cambodian friend replied, Cambodia is a developing country so what else would you expect but for development to be happening. Development appears as concrete, lifts and air-conditioned apartments.

The planning laws were changed and apartment towers have replaced the pagodas as the highest thing in the sky. These buildings replace old wooden houses on stilts, and rather than shade being provided by trees in the garden, it is provided by even taller buildings close by. The wooden houses seem romantic and more in tune with nature’s environment, but the reality for one friend living in a wooden house was termites, creaking wood and a dodgy roof (not to mention rats in the floorboards and mice in the cupboards!) She has recently moved into a modern apartment and is wondering why it took her three years to do so.

Trees and golden spires. How Phnom Penh used to look?

Cambodians are also moving en masse as suburbs and gated communities spread into Phnom Penh. I visited one recently which is called “New World” and saw rows of buildings ignoring the cooling virtues of wooden houses or even of ceiling fans, preferring concrete and air conditioning units instead. However, it was also a more open community with fewer gates barricading houses in and children were out roaming the streets.

Phnom Penh is a noticeably different city now to the one we arrived in on 13^th February 2012. If we come back in the future, it will have changed again. The streets will have changed, and the street sellers changed with them, and maybe some of the attractive French colonial buildings will have vanished too. Our hearts may fall, but why would Cambodians care about preserving the memories of a foreign, colonial rule?

As a sentimentalist, there is a part of me that hopes Phnom Penh will remain the same as I know it. But this is a selfish and harmful wish.



This is the view from the back of my roof, which may not last very long. The one in the distance is the unfinished tower and the one to the left has just been finished. The one away in the distance in the back right is the tallest of the lot. 

When counting the towers being built from my rooftop, I can actually see a 19^th building that has green mesh and the look of being constructed about it. However, if you look again tomorrow or the day after, or even if you had looked at it on 13^th February 2012, you will notice that nothing has changed in years. This unfinished, giant concrete tower of 34 storeys stands in the middle of Phnom Penh at the junction of two of the main roads. It is an unchanging scar on the city.

A city that is not changing is a city that is not living or breathing. Phnom Penh is an exhilarating city because it is living and breathing, and changing. The Phnom Penh that we have known, and will leave today, will exist tomorrow only in our hearts and memories. For tomorrow it will have changed again and other people will be falling in love with it.



Last sunrise over the Mekong, Tonle Sap and Bassac rivers in Phnom Penh this morning.

Goodbye, from your Phnom Penh Pals

Claire and Gordon

Can garment factories be a liberator for women?

In Cambodia, there is literally one rule for girls and a different one for boys. When they are pre or early teens, girls will be taught the Ch’bap Srey – the women’s law, which prescribes ideal female behaviour and their subservience to men. 

The rules for boys are much more lenient and they generally enjoy a higher status in society. There is a saying that boys are like a bar of gold and girls are like a white, linen cloth. A bar of gold can be bashed around and still retain its value, but when a white, linen cloth receives even just a tiny stain, it is forever ruined.

The discrimination between boys and girls is evident in education levels of adult women. The literacy rates of women aged 65+ is 25% compared to a male rate of 75%. Seventy percent of women aged over 25 have not completed primary school compared to only 47% for men. However, these women are suffering from discrimination of the past and there are signs that girls of today are getting an equal chance. Literacy rates for girls aged between 7 and 24 are virtually the same as for boys (1 percentage point different) and net enrolment rates in primary school is equal to that of boys.

There are still gender roles and expectations of appropriate female behavior but the rise of something usually considered negative may challenge these. Those exploitative, faint inducing garment factories are creating a huge demand for employed labour, something new for Cambodia, and that demand is being filled by women.

Every morning, you can see trucks crammed with standing women, being taken to the factories. When a shift ends, you see a mass exodus of women in pyjamas.  While their husbands may be picking up work here and there, the women are earning a regular wage. The effect of this is important even if the wage is low. Women hold the money in Cambodia but it is men who control what it is spent on, and how much is given to her in the first place. With women now earning a wage, that control of how much the woman receives may diminish.

Traditionally, women would not leave the home, and even after marriage the husband would move into the in-laws house. Women may grow up, marry, parent and grow old in the same place. But garment factories are pulling young women from their rural homes and moving them into a new world; a new world with new rules.

Unmarried, young women are moving into urban areas where garment factories are and leaving behind their parents. They may still be living with relatives - brothers, uncles, aunts etc - but they are far enough away that the rules parents may impose lose their strength. This extends to escaping from the pressure of an arranged marriage, something still common in Cambodia. Girls can have the chance to find somebody themselves (with parental approval) and a happy couple find their own place to live together, as it would be impossible to live with the in-laws hundreds of miles away from work in Phnom Penh.

As this new industry may challenge traditions, there is an older industry that also pulls girls from their homes and draws them into labour. The sex industry is rife throughout Cambodia, driven by Cambodians rather than expatriates. Some young girls, not finding jobs or income in their villages, may follow the dirt path to Phnom Penh and find themselves in karaoke clubs or massage parlours, rather than garment factories. In all of these workplaces, young girls will be working and sending money home, but unless it is the latter, they are probably having to lie about where they get it from. The boys who gave them the money in the first place are still gold though.

Gordon

Old culture, young people

Men in Cambodia, and throughout Asia, like to dye their hair to hide any grey hairs. I may be a little odd having youthful face matched with grey hair, but the dyeing of hair could also be considered a little strange given the respect for age in Cambodia and throughout Asia.

Respect for elders is probably something that many people would associate with Asian culture more than Western culture. However, one hundred years ago, Western culture was also marked by a deference to age but we have changed over time and there are signs that the same changes will happen in Asia too.

At the time of the Cambodian census in 2008, 58% of the population was aged 25 or under. In the UK, it's 32%. In Asia, people are talking about a youth bulge where there are lots of young people about to enter the market place for jobs, for love and for their future. And as they begin to seek these things, they will begin to assume roles in society that may disrupt traditional hierarchies of age.

Education is still very poor here, but there are more opportunities for young people leaving school and university now to have learnt skills and knowledge that their predecessors growing up in the 1980's and '90s would not have had. It is not just a gap between older people in their 60s and young 20 year olds, but even people in their 30s and 40s are feeling as though they are being left behind.

One Cambodian woman in her early 30s who has studied abroad (a very big thing to have done), told me that she feels that she is having to run just to keep ahead of the youngsters coming at her back. She sees their ability to question and to speak in front of audiences and recognises the difference from her day. This is how one of the most educated people of her age feels and behind her are many, many more people. In Cambodia, once you've passed school age, there is very little support for you to catch the train of progress as it whistles past taking the young ahead of you.

Last year during the elections, colleagues told me that it was no longer the father or older man of the house who influenced how people should vote. They told me that it was often an adult child who had gone to work in Phnom Penh and was sending money back home who could be the most influential. As well as money, they would bring back a smart phone and use it access to information that the elderly, with high levels of illiteracy, could not access. I think everybody believes that the influence of young voters was what caused country-changing shifts at the last election.

The rise of the youth are not just affecting places of work and politics, but they are also affecting places of home. After a few months here, my Cambodian boss (mid-40s) said something that made me ask whether he, his wife and their daughter still lived with his wife's parents. With a slightly bemused look he answered that of course he did - that is the tradition. Last Sunday, he showed me the house that he will live in with his wife and daughter only. Of two other colleagues who recently married, one couple has their own house already and another couple are building their's.

As these young people move out of their parent's house, they will also move out of their control. Parents will no longer be able to instruct young people that as long as they are under their roof, they have to follow their rules. Young people will be making their own rules in their own house.

These changes are happening more in Phnom Penh, but the rural provinces are being affected as young people leave to come to Phnom Penh and work. Not only are they outside of their parents' house, they are outside of their parents' sight. The future will be determined by what young people do when out of sight, even if not out of mind. The times, they are a changin'.

Youthfully yours
Gordon

Well did you ever…

Or, things I never thought I'd do, never mind do in Cambodia…

(I started writing this post in February, then edited it in March, and now it's June tomorrow. Although when I started this I didn't know I'd be leaving Cambodia, it does have a feel of someone who's moving on. Perhaps this helps give you an idea why it's such a bittersweet decision to be leaving this lovely place)

Sing Christmas carols with the British Ambassador in his house
It's thanks to neighbour Andy that I got to do this (he was invited as he works for VSO). I didn't even know where an embassy was in the UK before, never mind been inside one. Now I've been into the UK, the US, the Indian and the Indonesian embassies here in Phnom Penh and, just before Christmas, I found myself in the Ambassador's residence scoffing home made mince pies and mulled wine and singing along with a choir to Christmas carols.

Sadly, neighbour Andy only had a 'plus one' so Gordon did the gentlemanly thing and let me tag along. (panic not, mince pies were smuggled home to him as a thank you)

Terrible picture, but we'd moved out of the prime photo-taking spot to go in search of more mulled wine. That's the (now ex-) Ambassador in the pale blue shirt and his partner on the right in the black shirt. It's a beautiful old building.

And this just made me laugh - health and safety to the max (watch that 4 inch step up to the pool area!)
 in a country where health and safety are just things that you wish to someone!

Make a dance video
Before you go any further, please watch the video, and then you'll understand how much fun I had helping to make this.



A few months after moving to Cambodia I was delighted to discover the Central School of Ballet had just opened and it was teaching adult classes. Adult contemporary classes! I signed up and have been dancing there ever since (more about that below). My teacher (and the Artistic Director of the school), Stephen, has become a really good friend and he asked if I'd help him with his other project here, Dance Made in Cambodia. He works with young people from disadvantaged backgrounds, believing in the power that dance, and the arts in general, has in transforming people's lives.

We were making the video for a project called Dance Our City that Amrita Performing Arts (where I now work) were curating for Our City Festival - an annual festival of art, architecture and ideas. The idea for Dance Our City was to celebrate your city through dance.

The video was shot at the Olympic Stadium, one of me and Gordon's favourite places in Phnom Penh.

You can read more about Dance Made in Cambodia at www.dancecambodia.com

Dance on stage - twice! (I guess the second time round I should have expected it)

Crossing the Bridge Dec 2013

I've been learning contemporary dance for maybe four years now - two years on and off in Scotland and nearly two here at the Central School of Ballet. At the end of year one the School had an end of year performance. And then at the end of year two they had another. I've loved doing both.

Crossing the Bridge Dec 2013

Simple Pleasures Dec 2012

Simple Pleasures Dec 2012

Attend a film premiere alongside a who's who of Cambodian arts royalty (and actual royalty too)
In January, we were lucky enough to attend the film premiere of Don't Think I've Forgotten: Cambodia's Lost Rock and Roll. I've never been to a bona fide film premiere before. It was strange sitting in a room and going "Oooh, that's so-and-so. And OOOOh, there's what's-his-name." It was an experience made even more special than I imagine most premieres to be because there was just so much history in the room and in the film. You can read more about the night in this blog post (which you should click on just to watch the trailer for the film and see some wonderful old footage of Phnom Penh and all the cool cats getting their groove on in Cambodia!)

Dress up like a Khmer bride

before

after

It's a bit of a tourist thing to do, and I still can't quite decide if it's a little offensive to Khmer people, but it was a fun morning planned as a goodbye to a friend who will soon leave da Penh. $15 for hair, make-up, outfit, bling and three photos ($10 for Gordon - saving on the hair and make-up!). Some great Photoshop action later you have the 'after' photo.
(Sadly, I had to return the outfit and the bling - you don't get to keep them for 15 bucks!)


Attend a swanky event celebrating 65 years of Indian independence
Amrita, the dance company I work for, also do production work. We were working with the Indian Embassy to produce a performance of 35 classical dancers from India. Someone from Amrita got invited to the Embassy's event celebrating 65 years of independence. They couldn't go;  Gordon and I went instead; there was an ice sculpture of the Taj Mahal; never saw this one coming either!

Yarn-storm a cyclo
One of the lovely things I do in my spare time, apart from dancing (see above) and being in a book club, is to Stitch n Bitch. For those not familiar with the concept, it's the modern name for what I've always known as  a knitting bee. Basically, it's a group of people who get together to stitch (mostly knitting and crochet but all forms are welcome) and have a chat (the bitch element of the name, but we don't do that).

One of the cyclo drivers heading off on his newly decorated vehicle

For this year's Our City Festival we decided to yarn-storm something. Normally you yarn-BOMB something but we figured that was not a good choice of words in a country where things are still a little wobbly after the last election. For more information on what a cyclo is, what we did and why we did it, read a great entry on the Phnom Penh Stitch n Bitch group blog here.

An additional note to the blog: when I first spoke to a cyclo driver about this he explained (through someone who translated for me) that he was happy that we were making a 'dress' for his cyclo because it's very lonely being a cyclo driver. He'd been a cyclo driver for 20 years and people are now more interested in using tuk tuks or motos (very few people use cyclos now and cyclo drivers are generally very, very poor). Also, a cyclo only takes one person and you don't sit next to each other so that's lonely too. He was happy we were taking an interest in him and his cyclo as it made him feel warm and cared for. Yup, had me a bit teary at the time too.

Read Address to a Haggis. To a pizza. On our roof.
For Burns' Night we decided to actually do something this year. Sadly we couldn't find haggis. But we could find whisky and friends, and our roof is a great place for parties, so we toasted Rabbie in the only other way we knew how. With pizza. We all took turns reading a verse as we addressed the pizza and then toasted with whisky. And then we even had a wee ceilidh on the roof (a Strip the Willow for those that are interested)

A late entry - attend a King's birthday party
Okay, so I'm taking a little bit of licence with this title but it's almost true. The Royal Ballet of Cambodia is directed by His Majesty King Norodom Sihamoni's sister Princess Norodom Buppha Devi. She created a new work for the company, Lights and Shadows (which recently toured Europe), and they gave a performance for the King's birthday. And somehow, again, because I work with Amrita and we helped produce the event, Gordon and I managed to go along. And the King was there. And it was his birthday. And this performance was for his birthday. So that means we were at the King's birthday party. Right?

That's the King sitting in the middle. The King!

This piece was unusual as it also include sbaek thom (large shadow puppets) - a separate art
 form not usually included in the ballet

sparkly costumes and insanely beautiful bent hands

Not the show that we saw, but a sample of work from the company


I suppose my point in this, rather than purely updating you of some of the things we've been up to over here, is that, doing something like VSO has opened us up to new experiences that we never thought we'd have. I truly didn't think I'd ever do half the things I've been lucky enough to do here. We've been so, so lucky to have these experiences and it's definitely taught me to look at the world in a different way. Many VSO-ers (and I'm sure other people too) are quick to point out that they get back so much more than they feel they put in and that's certainly true for me.

Are all explorers lost and is Scotland the best?

When a friend of mine left Scotland to work in France, I was envious of him as I imagined what it would be like to live in France with red wine, croissants and cheese. I found it hard to understand why he continued to insist that Scotland was still the best country in the world. My incomprehension was not resolved by his inability to explain why. Finding it difficult to capture the right words, or even identifiable things that makes Scotland the best, he had to settle for telling me that it was the best because it just is. I was left puzzled and doubtful.

As a child, a day after arriving at our holiday destination, I would ask my parents when we could go back home. Maybe I felt that I would miss a great game of football with friends or that it was the perfect season to be playing golf. Or something else that a ten-year old’s life may revolve around. It was not that I did not like these places or struggled being away from home, I guess it was just that home was where my life was.

It seems to me that the desire to explore is at odds with the desire to be where your life is, unless your life is only what is with you at that particular moment in time. For most people, life is much more than what is in that instant as it contains the people and places that have become woven into our lives over long periods of time. When attempting to fulfill a desire to explore, it can be very difficult to take your entire life with you and I sometimes wonder whether constant explorers are those without much life behind them.

Before coming to Cambodia, an acquaintance approached me at the end of a meeting and shook my hand. He had previously spent four years in Brazil and had done other travelling. A warm, light hearted man, he looked at me seriously, carefully even, and told me “don’t get lost”.

Immediately, I knew what those words meant. They had the same meaning as the fear that was inside of me as a child when I wanted to go back home as soon as I had arrived on holiday. They had the same meaning as the fear that propelled me to go through all of my classmates names during the long summer holiday. It was not that I was scared of getting lost - I remember sometimes dreaming of being alone in a far off country, sitting drinking a beer and reading a book - more specifically, I was scared that I would be lost to others. The further you explore, the harder it is to reach those behind.

Claire has spoken about the feeling that some people have when doing VSO of feeling like they have pushed the pause button on their life. As if when they leave home, everything in their life stops but in a not-quite-real-life parallel universe, they fulfill their desire to explore and seek new experiences, only hitting the play button on their real life when they return. For me, I find that not only is life paused but my identity of who I am is also suspended a little as in this not-quite-real-life-parallel universe my identify forms with different people and events shaping it.

For me a special time in Cambodia is between 4:30pm and 6:30pm when the sun begins and finishes its descent. I sit on our roof, looking into the distance, breathing in the experience of Cambodia. There is a magical light that fills me with happiness, but I have realized that part of this happiness is because the light makes me think of those long, summer, Scottish evenings. They make me think of home. They make me think of my life there and the people in it.

A lot of things, a lot of wonders, go into making a country what it is. Unweaving this wonderscape to explain exactly why Scotland is the best place in the world is as hard as unweaving a rainbow. I write this blog in Guangzhou airport on my way back to Scotland having finished my time as a VSO volunteer, but maybe not having finished my time exploring. I want to see my friend and tell him that now I understand what he means and why it was difficult to explain. But most importantly, I want to ask him to make sure that even if I keep exploring, I am never lost. 

Gordon

Foreigners welcomed with a smile in Cambodia

We live in the Cambodian equivalent of Mayfair. A house in Boeung Keng Kang 1 can cost $2m, in a country where GDP per capita is nearer $1000. Apartments with swimming pools can be rented for $2000 per month; coffee shops with air-conditioning can charge $5 a cup; food can cost $30 in a restaurant; and flash cars are parked everywhere. This is ex-pat ville.

This is one is definitely more than $2m - owned by the family who have the license for Tiger beer.

Amidst all of this are the cheap local market, street food stalls and Cambodians eking out a living, often by serving the needs of wealthy foreigners. My sense of inappropriateness if eating a lavish dinner or drinking an expensive cocktail comes from my fear of what these people will think when they see me.

They see us come to their country, mangle their language, remain ignorant of their culture and spend exorbitant sums on things that are strange and foreign to them. They see the places that they know change to look more like the places we come from. And then these places remain too expensive for them to access.

People in developed countries get annoyed when people from developing countries live in their country and take the low paid jobs. Can you imagine what it would feel like if it were all of the high paid jobs that they took?

Whilst they would become doctors, engineers and bankers, you would work as a waiter, in a shop or as a taxi driver. You would practice for hours without books or teachers to learn their language, whilst the foreigners are pleased with themselves because they can say no and thank you in yours. 

You would copy phrases that you hear to greater endear yourself. Everybody becomes a sir or madam and you never stop enthusiastically offering your services because it might help you get another dollar. Any feeling of resentment is submerged by the need to earn money and the knowledge that it is through serving these foreigners that your family can eat.

What do you think that this would do to your feeling of pride? Yet, I do not see any resentment but instead have experienced kindness from people we work with, tuk tuk and moto drivers who take us places, staff who serve us and people who we see in the streets. A smile as wide as their faces is usually what greets us.

In other countries, tourists can complain about being ripped off and taken advantage of. So far, that does not happen to a great extent in Cambodia. Either, the Cambodians have not worked out how much they can rip people off or they are just not willing to do it. Sometimes, if you ask for a price, you can sense a hesitation whilst they consider whether they could get more than normal and if so how much more. Could they try to eke out an extra 500 riels (less than 10p)?

In fact we have experienced the opposite; people giving us stuff because we're foreign. Children at a pagoda in Kratie gave us fruit for no reason other than that we were foreign guests in their village. Teenagers in Battambang made a grasshopper from coconut tree leaves and gave it to us because we were talking to them. A food seller in Takeo gave us extra snacks whilst we were resting after climbing a hill. They gave to us even though they had less than us.

Our local moto taxi driver invited us to join a family celebration at his house, where not only were we treated to as much food my belly would allow, but he also gave us how home brewed wine that he had kept special for years.

As more tourists come, attitudes may change, but maybe not. I do feel that we are lucky to have been here at this time though.

Gordon

Shoe shining and paper aeroplanes

It's easy to mock tuk tuk drivers or moto top drivers, with their incessant shouts of "tuk tuk?!?" or "moto?!?" As soon as you appear around the corner, they will spring up with the hope of a puppy at dinner time, eager to take anything that you may offer. Our answer of having a bike already or just being out for a walk can cause a slump worse than any stock market has witnessed.

In Europe or America, to earn a living you look for an employer to give you a job. In developing countries, there are very few employers and if you want money to eat, you have to think what you can do to earn money yourself. The question is: "What can I do that will persuade people to give me money?"

I've had 13 years at school followed by 5 years at university and I have no idea what I  could do or produce that would persuade people to give me money. I made a wooden chair once when I was 12 but wouldn't remember how to do it now. Judging by my hairstyles, I don't think offering to cut people's hair for them would be an option. My restaurant would only be able to serve cheese toasties and I get a sore back when ironing for too long (the board is always too low). Imagine how hard this could be when you are illiterate and find it difficult to count and then add in the consideration that you are trying to sell to people whose monthly income is $100.

In my opinion, I can make the best paper aeroplanes ever, but they don't tend to last very long so I couldn't charge very much. I was pretty good at polishing my school shoes though so I guess that is what I could do. I could be a shoe shine boy. Put me into a situation in Cambodia where I would have to be self-employed and my best idea is to earn some money by shining shoes, with a paper aeroplane business on the side.

One lunch time a few months ago, when the heat scares people indoors, I watched my moto dop friend paced around his moto. He would wipe his seat, inspect his face in the wing mirror, look down one street, then another and then another. He would look down all four streets that can be seen from the intersection but there was nobody there. Without any customers, he didn't know what to do other than what he had been doing for two decades.

We have phrases in English that have become so common that we have lost an understanding of what the words mean. To counter this, when we do actually mean what we are saying, we insert the word "literally". In Cambodia, there are literally some people who do not know what to do with themselves. They don't have skills or ideas and they only know what they've done before. If that stops working then what else can they do?

Sometimes, I become slightly tired of tuk tuks offering you a ride or market sellers asking if you want to buy something and when I do I feel a bit ashamed. Despite the vast majority of people saying no, they keep on asking, they keep on offering, they keep on putting themselves out there for a disappointment. If I was a shoe-shiner or a paper-aeroplane seller, I don't think I would be able to keep going like they do.

Gordon

In Cambodia, nobody can be perfect

Cambodian’s have accepted the notion that “nobody is perfect” to such an extent that they do not even have the word “perfect” in their language. You can say that something was good, very good or even extremely good. But you cannot say that it was perfect.

We learn our mother tongue without thinking about the rules that structure our language; we follow the rules almost naturally. When learning a language, not only do you have to learn new vocabulary, you also have to learn new rules. Rules that sometimes can seem strange.

Cambodians pluralise words in a totally different way than in the English language. For instance, we would add a ‘s’ onto the end of the word such as: “he owns expensive cars”. In Khmer, you would say the word for expensive twice to indicate that there is more than one expensive car, so the sentence would be structured as: “he owns cars expensive expensive.”

Cambodians also seem to be so far advanced in eradicating gender bias that they do not even have different words for he/she, him/her or his/hers. The same word is used for them all. When I was trying to describe to colleagues that I was going to visit a friend and her wife in Viet Nam, it took minutes of confused sentences before they understand that:

1. my friend was a female (not helped by platonic friendships with the opposite sex being abnormal here)
2. my female friend was married to another female (again, a scenario not that common in Cambodia)

Such experiences have opened my eyes to the deficiencies that languages can have. In that conversation, understanding was made more difficult because the language cannot differentiate between she and he. Languages enable us to communicate concepts but if we cannot even communicate the concept of perfection, can that concept even exist?

I remember learning, rather sceptically, about how language can restrict our knowledge, but now I have seen how this can happen and how it is harming the education of Cambodian children.

In Khmer, they do not have a word for a lesson or period, such as a period of maths in school. Instead they use the phrase “study hour”. However, in Cambodian schools, a study hour is not the same as an hour. In primary schools, a study hour is forty minutes and in secondary schools it is fifty minutes.

At this point, I would like you to pause, ensure that you have understood the paragraph above and then consider this question: if a primary school child has five study hours in a day, how many (normal) hours does that child study for?

If you can answer that question correctly, then you are doing better than one of the Secretaries of State for Education in Cambodia, and indeed a host of senior directors in the Ministry of Education, Youth and Sport.

In the Cambodian national curriculum for primary education, there are 950 study hours per year. If a study hour equals 40 minutes, then this means that there are 633 hours and 20 minutes in a school year, which is one of the lowest in the world and below the internationally expected 800 – 1000 hours per school year.

However, because the concept of a study hour equalling only 40 minutes has not been grasped, the Cambodian government reports internationally that there are 950+ hours in a school year. At a meeting with the top people from the Ministry of Education last week, I heard (yet again) that Cambodia compares well to other countries.

Now that I see how the structure of Khmer affects their knowledge and understanding, I wonder how the structure of English has affected my own knowledge and understanding.

Gordon