It May be True

Cambodia / Journal and Diary

It may be true: life becomes more serious the more we grow older. Work commitments make us have more responsibilities and have less time to enjoy time for ourselves or with our friends. Moreover distance may come in between and we live more apart from friend and family. I myself live far away from family and friends and though I have made new friends living far away, I miss the friends back home and the relaxed feeling of being around a table in a countryside restaurant where we are linked by the memories of the past and the friendship we have now.


Then one evening we had friends over for dinner. He is German and she is from Philippines and they told us the story of Paking. Paking is an old man today, he is a carpenter who lives in the same islands in Southern Philippines where the two friends have their house. Actually is Paking himself who built the house. He is a very thou rough worker, they said, maybe a bit slow and taking breaks now and then disappearing for some days , but when he is back one can be sure that he will do a good job, paying attention to details and quality of the work.


Paking comes from a family of carpenters. Originally from the North of Philippines, his family moved to Manila where his father could find job as carpenter. The family was poor and Paking had to learn the job quite young in the beginning helping his father and learning the right skills. This was during the 1960s and at that time there was enough work in Manila. Then came the 1970s and the oil shocks, the situation was no more good, people started to look for jobs abroad. Paking did as well and went to Saudi Arabia getting a loan form a local money lender to pay for the flight.

So Paking went off. He got a first job in Saudi Arabia, probably Riad and then another one. Starting from simple carpenter he got more responsibilities and became the supervisor of several workers at the same time. He did not find too difficult to find jobs as one building after another was then build in Saudi Arabia. So time went fast and year after year he collected nine years in Saudi Arabia earning a good salary, repaying his debt, sending something home and saving for the day he was going back. Finally that day arrived and he was in the plane that brought him back to Manila. He was probably looking at the sea down under from the little windows of the plane, then the thin line of the coast and the slow decent towards the airport that make the tiny details of the land, his land, growing more familiar. He landed and finally could breathe the air of home. He was again in Manila, time to meet the friends again.

He phoned around and collected some people and gave them appointment to a famous pub in town: Ekuna. He went there met the friends and family friends and offered to drink paying with the savings he was still carrying with him. Then he offered another round and another one. Another one. Things got a out of hand and he decided to rent the all pub for the whole night, everybody could be his guest. The pub got full very fast and the rumours spread around fast about a party going on there. The Paking decided to rent the pub for the whole week. Everybody his guest, he got also some girls and dancers to come to the pub, then more girls and the pub rented for second week. Follow of people kept coming for days and nights, girls, young men, old men, friends of Paking and many unknown people. Music was playing loud, the air heavy of alcohol and smoke. But Paking did not gave up and rented the pub for a third week. And then the third week ended and Paking, like awakening from a sweet dream, realised that he had finished all the money he had saved in the years he worked in abroad. He was broke.

He went back to his island down in the south and started again with small carpenter jobs as people remembered well about his skills and had also heard about the great three weeks in Manila. Today one can hear Paking still telling this story, without regret. He is doing nicely, working for himself and slowly bringing up houses and buildings. Our friends told us that he sometime still feels the flame of the youth and goes for swimming. For swimming, I asked? Doing some sport in the nearby beach? No, swimming means, they said by moving the two harms in front of the like swimming, to play majung a Chinese gambling game made with stones like domino that have to be mixed on the top of a table moving the two harms like swimming. He goes there, makes some debt and come back to work the money he needs to repay them. His wife in the beginning was upset, then decided to follow him to one of the swimming session and now is more addicted than him. It is easy to spot them around the swimming table, in that island in the south of Philippines.

Arnaldo
7. February 2004
arnaldo.gtzkthom@online.com.kh

Sunset in Cambodia

Cambodia / Journal and Diary

Anche qui da noi c’é aria di autunno. Siamo ai primi di dicembre, le pioggie che hanno accompagnato il monsone sono finite. Nei campi il riso puó essere raccolto. L’aria é secca e ventosa. Alcuni alberi hanno perso le foglie, mentre altri stranamente le mantengono scommettendo sulla breve durata dell’autunno. La temperature é sempre estiva, ma la luce é cambiata. Il sole sembra tramontare piú lentamente e si tuffa all’orrizzonte a sud ovest, nei campi di riso di Baray. Le lunghe ombre della sera sembrano volere rimanere piú a lungo, la luce é dorata, meno speldnete ma piú calda.

Oggi é domenica e sono andato per un giro in moto lungo la strada sterrata che costeggia il fiume che attraversa Kampong Thom, lo Stung Sen. La stradina parte dalla cittá, passa alcuni villaggi che ormai fanno parte di Kampong Thom, e poi si perde dopo diversi chilometri nelle campagne della provincial. I villaggi diventano piú distanti, le case piú sparse. Al ritorno verso Kampong Thom, avevo il sole alle spalle e sembrava che inseguissi la mia stess alunga ombra sulla superficie di terra rossa della strada. Il cielo terso e senza nuvole. Le case da un lato con i pescatori che preparavano le reti per la pesca che inizia presto al mattino. I bambini che giocano a calcio a piedi nudi nella polvere dei poveri giardini di fronte alle semplici case in legno. le donne che si attardano facendo la spesa prima di tornare a casa per preparare la cena.

Passando con la mia moto, tutta questa vita si svolge di fronte ai miei occhi come un film che si ripete ogni giorno da lungo tempo. Ho incrociato ragazzi che tornavano dai corsi pomeridiani di inglese, un carretto trainato da bufali che trasportava legna da vendere in un villaggio piú lontano. Alcune motociclette con due o tre ragazzi che se vanno in giro la domenica pomeriggio.

Ho pensato a come fare per trasmettere queste immagini, questi colori e questi suoni. Mi sentivo bene e mi é tornato alla mente il film di Lasse Halström che ho guardato ieri sera. È la storia di un bambino, Igemar, il quale non se la passa troppo bene. aL madre é malata e lui viene prima sballottato a casa di parenti che non lo vogliono tenere e alla fine viene accolto in casa di conoscenti in un paesino dello Småland. Vi arriva d’estate, l’estate Bianca del nord, le persone che incontra sono aperte e dirette. Inizia a giocare nella squadra di calcio locale, fa conoscenza con altri bambini, segue alla radio uno dei mondiali giocati negli anni sessanta. Alla fine dell’estate deve fare ritorno a Stoccolma, ma dopo qualche vicissitudine ritorna nello Småland in inverno ed inizia ad andare a scuola. Una sera, pensando a tutto quello che gli é capitato, giunge alla conclusione che quello che conta é to compare con le storie degli altri, prendere le distanze e ingrandire la prospettiva. Cosí facendo le cose, i fatti, ed anche le persone acquistano una importanza relative in funzione della prospettiva o al confronto.

I villaggi e le case che ho passato qeusto pomeriggio, mi hanno fatto pensare alla prospettiva e al valore relativo delle cose. Soprattutto or ache sono appena tornato da Cremona, dall’Europa. Il valore relative delle mie esperienze, di questo momento fondamentale che sto vivendo e che ho portato attraverso due mondi che non sembrano appartenere allo stesso pianeta: Cremona e Kampong Thom. Asia ed Europa. Una volta un collega che vive da molti anni in Oriente m li ha definiti cosí: Asia where nothing matters but everything is important, and the West where everything is important but nothing matter.
A presto,
P.

Kampong Thom, 7.12.2003

Back in Cambodia

Cambodia / Journal and Diary

Dear all,

here we are again, back in Cambodia, after a short European break. Found again the nice humid weather of the tropics, misty warmth, clear sky, sunny days. Same world as in Europe, but different season. This morning, woke up very early, when the day start for the people living in Phnom Penh. Still dark outside, but one could hear a transistor radio somewhere in the neighbourhood broadcasting Chinese traditional music. Water was splashing as people were taking their morning shower before going to work. This is Phnom Penh, tomorrow Kampong Thom.
Arnaldo