Cambodia 2011 Peace Project Event (Part1 The Story)

PREVI HEAR JOURNAL 2011 ! The Peace Project
PREVI HEAR JOURNAL 2011 ! The Peace Project
DAY FIVE
Monday,
14th of
November
2011 Sra
‘Aem
It’s morning again.
Repeatedly. Groundhog
Day! Morning, morning,
morning.
Then I hear Mao say,
‘Good Morning Dom.”
Yes, it’s groundhog day.
Sometimes I would prefer
the day to
begin with a afternoon
but then it would be plain
‘ole hot.” And one thing
I hate more than I hate
morning is hot. The heat
burns even if you are not
aware of it. I step outside
the hotel and stare up
at the sky. It’s nearly
seven-thirty am but my
skin prickles. The heat is
burning holes through my
skin, or so it seems. It feels
like God is an evil twelveyear-old
kid with a big
magnifying glass, burning
insects on the playground
and we are the insects.
So let’s start with
morning, but it’s boring.
It’s the usual coffees and
waking up. The drivers
are already waiting,
murmuring amongst
themselves in the halflight
of dawn. They are
waiting early as usual.
After assembling in
the courtyard with the
equipment, we drive en
masse towards the South,
down the main road. After
half-an-hour we stop and
film on the street near
Mr Bora's house around
ten in the morning. A few
hours later we find a poor
pagoda and we visit it. It’s
part of the pilgrimage I
am making to see the area
around Previ- Hear.
I think, ‘I want to
understand why what has
happened has happened
here. Why is there war
here?’
I was full of questions for
the head monk. Just a kid
with a headful of questions
but no magnifying glass.
The questions were basic
and simple.
“What is the origin of
evil? How can we make
peace in the world? If you
had a thousand hours to
make peace with your self
what would you do? “
He looks at me blankly
as if I am asking some
weird questions about
having sex with midgets!
I then repeat in Khmer
and English together the
words.
“My name is Dominic.
I have travelled far I have
come for an answer. The
question is- How can we
make peace in war?”
In Khmer goes
something like this -
“Chues khnhoom ki
Dominic. Khnhom ban tvei
dom ner mok tyrus derm
bey chorng sur tha. Tei
tver doj mdech derm bey
oy pi pob lok mean soin ti
pheap.”
Then the head monk
realizes he is the star
and starts adjusting his
bald head! Maybe it’s not
shiny enough. He has the
attention and cameras
of the foreigner and the
crew are and the cameras
trained on him. He clears
his throat and looks
serious as if he is about
to deliver “the Sermon on
the Mount.” Everyone is
waiting, looking at him.
He looks at us and opens
his mouth. He begins to
talk. But he doesnt stop.
Five minutes is fine. Then
ten ten minutes then
fifteen. My eyes glaze
over because I realize I’m
going to fall asleep. He is
completely unaware of our
response. He is in fourth
gear and can’t think of
reversing. There is NO
reverse!
I’m thinking
‘I can see that this is
his big moment. Why?
Because he does not stop
talking. He’s talking and
talking and talking.’
I want to say, ‘Cut! Cut!
Cut!’ but it’s a sensitive
situation. He IS the head
monk and we are mere
mortals. At last he finishes
his sermon. I have already
told the guys to stop
filming but pretend we
are still filming so he is
not offended. It is a poor
pagoda. No windows, a flock
of dogs hanging around.
Just joking! I end up by
asking practical questions
about how the monastery
is built. Which parts exist?
How is it divided? Do they
have an administration
office?
‘ No, there is no
administration office here.
What you can see is what
exists.’
‘There’s a kitchen, kind
of. ‘ I see looking across at a
corrugated irobn shed.
I can’t see the office
but I can see a lot of flies.
There are flies everywhere.
A child is asleep on the
wooden floorboards but it
looks like it is dead. Maybe
it’s both. After all, this is a
monastery. And then they
start asking for money to
rebuild the pagoda.
We give them, a donation,
bow low and thank them
and then leave. Generally it
is a satisfying experience
and I’m only a cynical
artist and want to write
to something interesting
in this journal. Then it’s
back to the Kid with the
magnifying glass!
We then drive to the
natural village. In the
afternoon we divided into
two teams. The others, Mao
and Sophist and Bunthy
leave us and climbed the
mountain to prepare the
wood easels. Mao, So Pert
and Bunchy with Mao
drive there to climb the
mountain and erect the
last remnants of the easels.
These had been assembled
in Siem Reap by a group
of carpenters which Mao
and I had used to construct
the wooden frames. That
was another story I would
prefer not to go in. Suffice
to say, I ordered twohundred
kilos of wooden
frames for my paintings.
Paid for them and then it
turned out to be a dud. We
couldn’t transport them
to Australia because they
were declared raw wood.
One logistics guy from
Siem Reap offered to do it
for ten thousand dollars.
That’s a cheap price!
As dusk is falling we
drive to Mr Bora’s house. It
is twenty kilometers from
town. In the sequence I
cruise up on the motorcycle
needing somewhere to
stay. The motor-tok driver
explains as I walk in,
‘This is my water; this is
my fire for you; and this is
my house for you.’
That evening I notice that
one of the rooms has seven
beds like a fairy tale from
the Brothers Grimm. It’s
another day and we check
the footage. The sound is
bad and crackles.