Saturday, September 29, 2018

To Our Children


O children! Listen,
Your father is going to confer
To urge you all.
Please remember this
And keep this as a code of conduct;
With eagerness and caution,
You will preserve it,
Each one of you.
Normally, good people,
Those who possess wisdom
And who are of good family,
Do not indulge in boastfulness,
Rivalry, abuse,
The exploitation of others,
Boasting and boasting.
Whenever they go,
To wherever their destination,
They walk like a snake,
Their heads lowered,
Full of disciplines and reserves,
In order to protect their good reputation.
On the other hand, people of low status,
From poor families,
Obtuse and devoid of wisdom,
Walk while swaying,
Holding the arms up,
Quite like a scorpion,
Which, in fact, possesses little venom.
He stands up, chest-thumping,
Does the round back, and raises
Confident in the venom of his sting.
But his body is terribly small,
His energy is feeble:
Even with the poison of his sting,
Still, how much can he sting?
Normally, foul people
Can not be aligned
With good people,
Because they defend their name
Standing above average,
Defend their lineage
And their family’s tradition.
O, my children! Please pay close attention,
Your father will advise you
Following the path
Of gatha pali,
Which go way back to ancient time.
Please, with ardor, retain these counsels,
Each of you, without a difference.
These words form a code
To educate which would lead to success
You, children, in the future.
Your father does not own property
Worth to leave you
Except these counsels
According to the contents of the sacred pali.
The sage says that fire is bright.
Is that not so?
But it is not the equal of the Sun.
He says the Sun’s rays
Are resplendent in the heavens
But are not equal to
The dharma of the Lord Buddha.
The fire blazes with all its might
But at the end of its time it is gone,
Used up, extinguished.
The Sun is brilliant,
Magnificent, it is true
But, when it sets, it is dimmed.
You can not see its light.
Stanzas 1-10 of Chbab Kun Cau (Moral Codes of Conduct: Children

and Grandchildren) Composed in Pad Kakagati (Crowe’s Gait Metre)

17th Century or earlier

Monday, September 24, 2018

Autumn Air

The autumn air is clear,
The autumn moon is bright.
Fallen leaves gather and scatter,
The jackdaw perches and starts anew.
We think of each other - when will we meet?
This hour, this night, my feelings are hard.
Autumn Air by Li Bai (8th Century)

Sunday, September 23, 2018

Banana Blossom Salad


Ngiom Trayong Chek in Khmer

1 large banana blossom (about 1 ½ lb)

Juice of one lemon
12 oz. chicken breast or pork belly or 1 lb shrimp, boiled
8 oz. bean sprouts, trimmed  
1 small bell pepper, seeded and julienne (preferably red or orange)
A handful of basil leaves
A handful of mint leaves
⅓ cup Khmer fish-sauce dressing
¼ cup roasted peanuts, coarsely crushed
Fill a large bowl with cold water. Add lemon juice. Remove and discard several
outer layers of the banana blossom along with the undeveloped bananas. Keep
removing the layers until you reach the heart. Do not throw away these layers.
Cut the heart in half lengthwise and cut into very thin slices. Places the slices in
lemon water as you work. Stack the removed layers and roll them like a cigar
and cut into very thin strips. Again add them in lemon water to prevent
discoloration. Leave it aside.
If using chicken breast, shred it with your fingers.
Drain the banana blossom. Make sure you squeeze out as much water as
possible. In a large bowl, toss the banana blossom, bean sprouts, bell pepper,
shredded chicken, basil and mint leaves together. Add the dressing
and toss again. Top with crushed peanuts and serve.  
Khmer Fish-sauce dressing
½ cup fish sauce
½ cup lemon juice
½ cup sugar
6 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 bird's eye chili, chopped (optional)
Mix everything together. Taste and adjust accordingly.
Note: in Cambodia we only use leaves/blossoms/fiber from pisang awak
banana. Pisang awak is the most versatile variety. The blossoms are bland
and the leaves don’t leave a bitter aftertaste.  

Saturday, September 22, 2018

Autumn Has Arrived

Full-blown lotuses, pale pink, her face,
Deep-blue lilies unfolding, her dark eyes,
Fresh white kasa blooms, her bright robe,
Glowing with the brilliance of moon-lotuses,
May this autumn, like your beloved
Lost in love for you,
Fully grant your heart’s highest happiness.
Stanza 26 of Rtusamharam or The Gathering of the Seasons: A Poem in Six

Cantos by Kālidāsa (5th Century)

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

When in Rome,

Negotiate a river by following its bends; enter a country according to its customs.
Khmer Proverb





Tuesday, September 18, 2018

King's Codes

O, you good people
This work is composed according the Pali texts.
A treatise on the principle of dharma,
It is imperative that you take it as your duty
To be bound and to conform.
This dharma offers rules
To guide all living beings,
To ensure their success here and in the afterlife.
It is alive, it is immortal,
This dharma that constitutes a code
By laying bare the aspects of success.
Do not trust or solely rely on the foreigners,
Do not trust someone just because he appears to be an ascetic,
Do not trust a speaker just because he speaks movingly.
Stay observant in all circumstances,
Listen to your elders’ counsel and guidance,
But still, do pull yourself up and stretch your thinking.
Don’t just twist in the wind,
Do not think highly of the words coming from a fool.
Do not let yourself be entirely consumed with women,
Just like you don’t touch a deadly poison,
You do not become too familiar with a loose woman,
Do not become combatant when argue with ascetics and venerable people.
Still don’t be afraid to provoke an argument,
Do not stand to listen to loathsome words,
Nor should you listen to dishonorable words,
Do not go against bad omens,
Do not plant rice where elephants often passing through.
Stanzas 1-5 of Chbab Rajaneti (Moral Codes of Conduct: King’s Neti)
by King Sri Dharmaraja II (1628-1630)


Tuesday, September 11, 2018

A Lasting World

A forest with no animals, a nation without sages, a people with no religion, a home without young children, like a world deprived of the blazing sun, a world composed of these characters will not last.
Khmer Proverb 



Saturday, September 8, 2018

Tum Teav: The Khmer Romeo and Juliet

Tum Teav is a Khmer tragic love story about a doomed affair between Tum, a handsome novice monk and Teav, a beautiful adolescent girl who was “literally” on the cusp of womanhood. Tum Teav is believed to be a real story. It is believed to have taken place in the late 16th century in Tbong Khmom district, in present-day Kampong Cham province. Some writers refer to Tum Teav as the Cambodian Romeo and Juliet.
The story began in the rice farming district of Ba Phnom, Prey Veng province where Tum, the novice monk, feeling restless, decided to set out to sell bamboo baskets with his friend Pich, another novice monk, for their monastery. Their trip took them toward Tbong Khmom, a prosperous district in the neighboring Kampong Cham province. Along the way, both friends accepted requests from villagers to perform in exchange for food and lodging. Tum, who had a beautiful voice, chanted poetry and Buddhist sutras, while Pich accompanied him with the flute. Before long, Tum’s vocal reputation and Pich’s musical skills spread and words reached Tbong Khmom ahead of their arrival.
At the same time in Tbong Khmom, Teav, the daughter of a wealthy widow, was undergoing Chol Mlop (entering the shade), a rite of passage for young girls to undertake when they reach puberty. Chol Mlop begins at a woman’s first menstrual period. She is in the “shade”, which means the girl is confined to her house for a specified period of time (between three days to six months, depending on how wealthy her family is). During her confinement, the girl is taught etiquette and how to handle household finances and affairs; she is prepared to become a proper woman, wife and mother. At the end of her confinement, the girl is socially accepted as a nubile young woman and is readied for marriage. Our heroine Teav was “in the shade” when Nor, her maid, informed her about Tum and his beautiful, captivating voice. Teav begged her mother to invite the two monks to their home, which her mother agreed. Despite the fact that she was “in the shade” and not allowed to see a man, Teav was pacing back and forth outside the guestroom where Tum was seated, peeping through the crack of the door into the guestroom. By the time Tum finished chanting the dharma, Teav was in love, and she made no secret in showing her face to him throughout his stay at her home. And of course Tum noticed and was smitten. At the end of his stay, Teav asked Nor, who was a little in love with Tum herself, to give her pha-hom (a throw) to Tum as a token of her love.
Once all their bamboo baskets were sold, it was time for Tum and Pich to return to the monastery. During the journey back, deeply missing Teav, Tum decided that he could no longer remain a monk. He told Pich that he intended to ask the abbot of their monastery to disrobe him as soon as they arrived. Being a very good friend, Pich decided to do the same. When they arrived, the abbot rejected Tum’s request and told him to wait until the end of the year because he foresaw death in Tum’s future if he was disrobed then. However, he gave his consent to Pich. Consumed by a strong desire to be with Teav, Tum disrobed himself in the forest.
Tum and Pich returned to Tbong Khmom. The villagers welcomed them back wholeheartedly, Teav’s mother included. She invited them to stay at her home, which they accepted. Using Nor as a lookout, Tum continued his romantic affair with Teav behind her mother’s back. This happened regularly. Tum and Pich made their living by performing together in Tbong Khmom and the surrounding areas. Shortly after, their reputation reached the capital and the King sent for them to come and perform at the palace. The King was impressed with Tum and Pich and asked them to live and work at the palace. Also, it’s important to point out that by then Teav was out of “the shade” and, despite her protest, was betrothed to a son of the governor of Tbong Khmom.
Back in the capital, the King had ordered the palace officials to go out and search for the most beautiful girl in the country to be his royal concubine. As it happened, they found Teav, whom they thought well enough, and brought her to the King. Since this was the King, Teav’s betrothal to the governor’s son was nullified, and again, Teav had no say in the matter.
The King was pleased by Teav’s beauty and sent for Tum and Pich to come and perform for her. Afraid of the King, Teav could not explain her presence to Tum. Tum started singing, first lauding Teav’s beauty and then risked his life by going on to sing about their love affair and then scolded her for forgetting him, choosing money and power over true love. The King was furious and demanded an explanation. Tum confessed that he and Teav were lovers. The King then asked Teav to confirm it, which she did. The King married them right then and there.
Teav’s mother was upset and angry that the two were having an affair behind her back and her daughter was married to this lowly, poor singer. Upon her return to Tbong Khmom, she and the governor agreed to arrange a wedding between Teav and his son. To bring Teav back home for the wedding, her mother sent a letter to Teav asking her to come home, claiming that she was gravely ill. Instead of an ill mother, Teav was greeted by wedding preparations and forced to get ready for the ceremony. Teav was shattered and wrote a letter to Tum to explain the situation. Since this was back in the time when Khmer weddings lasted seven days, Tum and Pich arrived when the ceremony was still underway, with a royal decree in hand to stop the wedding.
Working his way through the wedding crowd, Tum did not use the King’s decree, believing in his own ego, and started to beg Teav, who was under heavy guard, to come out. When Teav couldn’t see him, Tum was sad and angry and started to drink and became drunk. Pich tried but could not stop him. After a while, Tum pushed his way through the guards to go upstairs to Teav’s room. Once there, he implored Teav to prove that she loved him still.
Not knowing about the King’s decree, the governor was furious at Tum’s audacity. He ordered his men to kill Tum. Pich tried to help Tum, but was beaten by the men. They then killed Tum and dumped his body near a bodhi tree not far from Teav’s house. Pich, who was hiding nearby, ran back to tell Nor what had occurred and where to find Tum’s body. Nor immediately told Teav about Tum’s death. Teav rushed to Tum’s body, pulled the knife from his dead body and slashed her own throat. She died on top of her husband’s body. Nor was unable to stop Teav and killed herself after her mistress.
Pich went back to the palace to report to the King. Not knowing that Tum neglected to pass on his decree to the governor, the King was enraged. Feeling his authority was challenged, the King went to Tbong Khmom with his troop. Once there, the King ordered the executions of the governor and Teav’s mother along with their immediate families, including young children. They were buried alive up to their necks in the ground. The guards then took the water buffaloes and yoked them to a large metal harrow and raked over them. Their relatives were made slaves for the next seven generations and those from the surrounding villages within the sounding distance of a gong were taxed in perpetuity.
As stated in the beginning, the tale of Tum and Teav is believed to be real. The events that happened in the story are believed to have taken place in Khmer history. The provinces and towns in the story do exist. The district of Tbong Khmom was noted to have a lot of slaves. Modern residents of Tbong Khmom have preserved items they believe belonged to Teav. Various historical texts over the centuries mentioned the story. According to one text, the Royal Chronicles, King Rea-mea Thipadei (circa 1641-1656), the same name as the King in Tum Teav, had two pages he favored considerably. One was a singer called Ek and another was a flutist called Tum. In Tbong Khmom the tale is known as Teav-Ek.
Teav-Ek was also the title used by Étienne François Aymonier in his translation of the tale. Aymonier was a French linguist who traveled all over Cambodia. His version was based on oral versions. All versions (and there are many) of the story are based on oral versions. These oral versions were performed by professional singers who traveled the country in the 18th and 19th centuries. These performances were usually accompanied by chapei dong veng (Khmer long-necked, two-string guitar). Aymonier produced his first translation of the oral versions in 1880 and dated it to the early 18th century. He later investigated the source of the story by traveling to Tbong Khmom in 1883. The residents told Aymonier that the story was true. He learned that their resentment for being called the descendants of hereditary slaves was the reason it was strictly forbidden to tell the story in Tbong Khmom. For this reason, he was accompanied by French soldiers during his research. He was taken to locations where events in the story were alleged to have taken place. He included the information he gathered during this trip to supplement his second translation of Tum Teav, which was included in his Le Cambodge I, Le Royaume Actuel, published in 1900 and dated it to the mid-18th century. Various researchers over the years had dated the story to anywhere between the late 16th century to the mid-18th century. Aymonier described the story as “historical drama”. In France the story was denounced by some critics at the time for featuring premarital sex.
In 1900, a version of Tum Teav, authored by a famous poet named Santhor Mok, was published. The work was incomplete. The writing was uneven and the text was not well received by other literary scholars. Shortly after, a palm leaf manuscript by a monk named Venerable Botumthera Som emerged as well. Venerable Som was born in 1852 in the farming village of Kamprau in Prey Veng province (Kamprau is bordering Tbong Khmom). Venerable Som completed his palm leaf manuscript of Tum Teav in September 1915. In 1935 another monk named Venerable Oum copied Venerable Som’s manuscript on a new set of palm leaf sheets. This copy comprised of 1050 stanzas, including a 39-stanza preface in which Venerable Som dated his manuscript and identified himself as the author, which caused a controversy. Most critics believed Santhor Mok should have received credit as well. Nevertheless, Venerable Som’s version was edited and incorporated into lower secondary school curriculum in 1957.
Tum Teav is probably the most popular story in Khmer literature. Except the ballet, the tale has been adapted into every medium imaginable, from comics to movies, from classical theater to folk musical theater, from radio dramas to songs (both pop and folk).
The following stanzas are taken from the text used in secondary school. The text was translated to English by George Chigas in 2005. They cover the scene after Tum returned to Tbong Khmom, following his disrobing.
Stanzas 414-423
Teav: You compare me to a flower,
While you are like a bumble bee
That flies around and spots the flower and enters straight away.
Afterwards, it doesn’t delay and is soon on its way again.
Tum: I am like the lion king,
While Miss Teav is like a large cave.
If the lion king has a place to live,
He will never allow himself to leave.
Teav: I am like a dock,
While you, so charming, are like a boat.
You are quick to park a while, precious one,
Then hurry away without a second thought.
Tum: Oh, I am like a large fish,
While you, young Teav, are like a river.
The fish that has large water swims leisurely from side to side.
Don’t dear! Don’t reject me or be suspicious.
Teav: I am like a tree,
While you are like a sarika bird that perches there every day.
You stop to perch and take shelter,
Then fly off at great speed to go to some other place.
Tum: I am like a tiger,
While you, dear, are like the jungle.
Usually a tiger doesn’t turn away quickly.
He avoids leaving behind his precious forest.
Teav: I am like a tree trunk used as a hive,
While you, handsome sir, are like the bees
That come there to live and fly off one day,
Leaving the tree trunk defiled and useless.
Tum: I am like an elephant,
While you, young lady, are like sugar cane.
Once the elephant tastes the sweetness, he never goes
Far from the sugar cane, dear.
Teav: Oh, dear sir!
Who would not be suspicious
Of the words of a man trying to show off his intelligence?
So don’t tell me not to be suspicious.

As Teav spoke wisely,
Tum had no fear at all. He grabbed Teav’s hand
And kissed her and says, “Oh, my dear,
Do you still doubt me? Do you still not believe how I feel?”
Sources:
Le Cambodge I, Le Royaume Actuel, Étienne François Aymonier (1900)
Tum Teav: A Translation and Analysis of a Cambodian Literary Classic, George Chigas (2005)

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Num Krok: An Ugly Cake




Num krok is a popular street snack in Cambodia. It is a coconut and green onion cake. The cake is served with a Khmer fish-sauce dressing and a dose of coconut cream. There’s a lot of coconut in this cake. But first, a brief Khmer lesson:

Num = cake, and after the French arrived in the mid-19th century, it also refers to any western treat that is made with flour. i.e., num pang is bread.

Krok = homely or drab, and it refers to the ugly appearance of the cake’s top. To hide that ugliness, two cakes are joined together face to face into a ball shape.

Num krok is cooked in a special terracotta clay pan. The pan has half-spherical molds. Amazon carries a cast iron version. I use a takoyaki pan because that’s what I have. You can also use poffertjes pan if that is what you have at hand. Remember, you’ll get a slight difference in texture when you use a cast iron pan than if you use a terracotta clay pan.

Batter
2 cups rice flour
2 cups glutinous rice flour
5 cups coconut milk
⅔ cup water
1 cup cooked rice (I used leftover rice)
1 cup sliced green onion, green part only
Enough lard to brush the pan

Fish-sauce dressing
½ cup fish sauce
½ cup sugar
½ cup lemon juice
⅔ cup coconut water
6 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 tsp finely chopped galangal (optional)
1 chopped bird-eye chili (optional)
⅔ cup coconut cream

Dressing: In a jar or bowl, mix fish sauce, sugar, lemon juice, garlic, galangal (if using) and chili (if using) together until the sugar is dissolved. Add coconut water. Mix, taste and adjust accordingly. Leave it aside for a few hours. Strain the dressing. You only need the liquid. You can throw away the solid.

Batter: In a food processor, add water and rice and process until smooth. In a large mixing bowl, add rice flour, glutinous rice flour and coconut milk and mix until smooth. Add in the rice/water mixture and green onion and mix until no clumps remain.

Heat the pan over medium low heat. When it’s hot, brush each mold with lard. Pour the batter to fill the molds. Let the cakes cook until the tops are almost firm and the outside are crispy and slightly brown. Carefully with a spoon, flip one on top of another to make a ball. Let each ball cook a minute more. Make sure to rotate each side of the ball once. When they are done, take the cakes out with a spoon. Brush the molds with lard and continue with the rest of the batter. Keep brushing the molds before you pour in the batter.


To serve: Place several cakes in a small bowl, add some dressing and top them with a teaspoon or two of coconut cream. Mix and enjoy. It’s best to serve them warm.
Note: if you don’t quite like the strong coconut taste, you can cut down the amount of
coconut milk in the batter. Just replace it with water instead.