Cambodia 2011 Peace Project Event (Part1 The Story)

PREVI HEAR JOURNAL 2011 ! The Peace Project
PREVI HEAR JOURNAL 2011 ! The Peace Project
comes to hand. Sometimes
I run out of paint and spent
the morning trying to find
turpentine. I ended up with
diesel or petrol as we could
not buy any turps ion town.
Four hours drive to Siem
Reap! Or Chinese Windsorand-Newton
oil paint! Of
course, when I had asked
Mr Tith Mao to bring three
extra bottles of turpentine
with him from Siem Reap
he didn’t understand.
Chinese whispers or just
plain Lost in Translation.
After filming at Go-Go’s
house we drive to the check
point. Here we change
from motorcycle convoy to
the open-topped truck. At
the check point is another
girl with the same name
as our assistant. Sre Pich.
She is always there when
we buy the ticket. We pick
up the second Sre Pich,
the art assistant, who is
waiting half-way up the
mountain by the side of
the dirt road and then
drive up to the mountain’s
summit. She looks great
and is wearing the same
clothes as usual with her
wide-brimmed straw hat
with the burgundy red
sash and big white sun
glasses which makes her
look so beautiful. En route
at the half-way point to
the summit we disembark
and walk the final 500
meters carrying camera
equipment, new easels
ready for for the painting.
Sokeng one of the two
camera person again
asks for film footage from
the soldiers who are all
lingering around bored
waiting fir another war or
another order or another
packet of cigarettes. They
just shake their heads
looking indifferent or
show us
fuzzy telephone blurs
with rata-tats.
Standing in front of the
huge easel and the paints
and scurrying people with
cameras and parasols I
scratch my head and with
my head turned cocked
toi the left think to myself,
‘The day is painting
with Su Pet and I.
sometimes Sre Pich
carries paints or holds
the parasol. It feels like a
Western man’s folly to me.
Rather than an epic Peace
Project adventure. “
We return down the
mountain in the open
topped truck as the
sun descends. It is so
magical. The setting sun.
The gun emplacements.
The Khaki soldiers. The
temples. The red dust and
the mountain ranges.
It all seems to coalesce
into a great landscape
painting. That evening
Mr Bunthy drives me off
for relaxation so I can
work on The word and the
manuscript i have called
The Labors of Oscar while
the boys sit and watch
Soccer. We are now a little
opver half-way through the
Blue Buddha Peace Project.
DAY TWELVE
Sunday, 21st of
November 2011 Sra
‘Aem
A shrill cawing startles
my sleep. I don’t know what
it is? Bird song ... but what
bird? An Elvis feathered croon? Tith Mao
is rustling the sheets. He turns and hugs
me. I read this as a wake up call. As usual
we are in the Sokzan Guest House. Day
twelve. It’s cool outside. 15 degrees. Early
morning. 7.16 am to be precise. Crystal
dew like natures of pearls christen the
grass and granite stones outside. There
are pools of glistening dew on the tiles
too. Faint coughing emerges from behind
a closed door. A body rustles. Outside our
door a Khmer cleaner’s broom m sweeps
in flick-flacks.... Tith Mao opens hie eyes.
He is the first to wake. Then Dominic’s
eyelid breaks open. Sambo and Sokkeng
emerge first. Pulling on socks and
skipping. A large breakfast greets them
with a clatter of plates. I think again,
“I wish I was someplace else, but I'm
not. Money is going fast and I’m going
faster nowhere. It’s all a down hill slide
from now on,” I think to myself. When
the motorcycle riders arrive at 7-50 we
leave the guest house to travel in convoy
up the mountain. Through the town we
silently past the secondhand war fatigue
shops full of Glock T shirts, Bowie Knives,
cross bows and barber shop shaving
blades. Past the FM Army radio station
tower that stands crooked like a leaning
tower of Pisa, three Karaoke Bars and
five army battalion barracks. Then we
hit the open road, past Gogos tin shed
home with sword grass swaying and the
pale pastel blue mountains loom in the
distance. After 45 minutes we arrive