Adventures in Northeastern Cambodia

About six weeks ago I got to take an amazing work trip, courtesy of a visit from our Regional Environmental Officer, Jim Waller, who is based in Bangkok. We spent six days in Stung Treng and Ratanakiri, two remote and sparsely populated northeastern provinces an 8-12 hour drive from Phnom Penh. (Stung Treng town and Banlung, the capitals of Stung Treng and Ratanakiri provinces, are shown on the map below.)

The focus of the trip was to look at the impact of dams in Vietnam on three rivers that feed in to the Mekong--the Sesan, Sekong, and Srepok rivers. We also investigated illegal logging and quasi-legal logging and economic land concessions in the region.

We started out with a trip up the Mekong River from Stung Treng town. In typical fashion, the Cambodians insisted that Jim and I get two of the few life vests even though we both knew how to swim and several of the Cambodians along didn't.

Jim and I perch on top of the boat, while our driver Sideth and translator Sethy stand on the deck with community members from one of the towns along the river.

The Mekong is wide and beautiful, and we saw animals out for a drink, a "flooded forest" and the endangered dolphins I blogged about seeing in January (no photos of those this time.)

Our big adventure was hiking up jagged rocks up to the Khone Falls, which form the border between Laos and Cambodia. I knew we were going to be close to the waterfalls and so asked if we could visit them. A long conversation in Khmer (most of which I didn't follow) ensued between our translator and the leader of the trip. Then came the one word summary: "Okay." What they didn't tell me is that the boat we were taking was too big to navigate the shallower waters near the falls, and we'd need to switch to two motorized canoes (which they'd have to go looking for, and one of which was piloted by someone who looked to be about 12), go up rapids, and even then we wouldn't be able to boat all the way to the falls.

It was a real adventure to get to the waterfalls, but Jim was determined to make it and I was happy to push aside the rest of the schedule to make it happen. He was the big shot visitor, after all, and I was happy for an excuse for an adventure. After riding various boats, leaving half the group at a rock outcropping in the middle of the river so the more experienced boat pilot could lead each boat over the rapids, and a long, strenuous, and extremely hot hike without water or food, we finally reached the falls. Surely one of the more remote places on the planet, and well worth the trip.

Our plan had been to get back to the community where we started for lunch and a discussion of changes in rivers and forests in their area and its impact on their lives. We did go back, but we were three hours late after our waterfall diversion. Fortunately, no one minded, and we arrived hot and famished, wolfed down lunch, and had a good conversation.

The next day was important but less exciting day of meeting government officials and NGO leaders in Stung Treng. (Sadly, a few weeks after our trip an activist for one of the NGOs we met with was killed--some said because of his work in promoting villagers' rights to use and protect forest and river resources.)

Then it was off to Ratanakiri by way of a small and remote ethnic Phnong village on the banks of the Srepok, one of the rivers slated to be dammed. We had to drive three hours through the forest on what was essentially a dirt track to reach the village. Rainy season had just started and I was afraid that we wouldn't be able to make it in on the muddy track.

At one point, after about two hours of driving through the forest with no people in sight, I was worried that we were on the wrong path. I asked the NGO rep who was leading us how many times he had visited this village and, sensing my worry, he laughed and said, "Only once, and that was more than a year ago!" At another point, our car was surrounded by tons of big black flying insects and I asked my translator what they were. He consulted with the NGO rep and then told me, "I don't know what you call them in English, but they suck your blood." Comforting! I passed around the Deep Woods Off.

Despite my misgivings and with several stops to push the car, put branches, etc under the tires to get traction, we made it.

Beautiful meadow and flowers on our way to the Kbal Romeas ("Rhino Head") Phnong village. (And, yes, those faint tracks in the meadow were the road!)

Getting to the village on the dirt track was a real challenge. Here we are bringing back fallen logs to put on the muddy road to help our SUV get some traction. I wasn't sure that we'd make it to the village, but we did!

Ethnic Phnong home and children. There are several different minority groups who live in northeast Cambodia, and the Phnong are among the most numerous. They live in really remote areas, and only in the last year or two did researchers announce that they had figured out a way to write the language. Whereas ethnic minorities in Vietnam, Thailand, and Laos have often retained their colorful traditional clothing, in Cambodia they tend to wear Khmer or used Western clothes. Many have suggested that this is a good thing, as it will not beckon the hordes of Western tourists who descend on ethnic minority villages in neighboring countries.

In a country where 80% of the population lives in rural areas, I think field travel--and specifically getting a sense of what the issues and perspectives are outside Phnom Penh--is one of my most important jobs. But it's often very difficult to find the time to get away from the daily grind of the office. A work visitor, like Jim, provides the perfect motivation/excuse to make that field travel happen rather than put it off, and means that superiors will almost certainly sign off on the trip.

In the field, we spend a lot of time like this, meeting with local communities and listening to their concerns. Despite the fact that this community was dramatically affected by construction of a dam upstream in Vietnam, no one had ever come to meet with them to talk to them about the construction or what would happen to water levels. They already reported floods during the dry season which destroyed crops and increased pollution in the river.

During our conversations with communities, men and women consistently segregated themselves, and the men dominated the conversation. We purposefully tried to solicit the women's opinions but they were reluctant to talk and, frankly, their few comments were often not as insightful as the men's. It really seemed as if their realm was the family and day to day life, while the men were the ones who kept track of the outside world.

After our meeting with the Phnong community, we high-tailed it to Banlung, the capital of Ratanakiri, where we had a 4:30 meeting with the Ministry of Environment. When we arrived (just in the nick of time) we learned that the provincial governor had cancelled our meeting. Apparently he was offended that we were meeting other provincial officials before we were meeting him. In reality, we had scheduled that meeting for the afternoon after the Phnong village because it was less important and we knew we might be running late. We scheduled the governor for 8 am the next day because we knew we wouldn't miss the appointment. Ironically, the next day the governor was unable to meet with us so we met with the vice governor instead.

The good news about the meeting being cancelled is that it gave us extra time to visit Yaklom Lake, a small but very beautiful lake just outside of Banlung. I went back to the lake at sunrise the next day for a terrific run.

Mist rising off Yaklom Lake

Jim and I enjoy walking through the bamboo forest on the trail around the lake.

My favorite photo from the trip. Sunset at the lake as seen from the bamboo forest.

After our leisurely stroll around the lake, Jim (being even more adventurous than I) wanted to sample some of the local delicacies on offer at the little snack shop. So we shared two jugs of a very unusual type of rice wine, which is also found in the central highlands of Vietnam. Somehow, husked rice is "dry fermented" and packed in these ceramic pots. To get to the wine, you pour in bottled water, and then suck out the rice wine with bamboo straws. Just like a tea bag, you can add more water and get more rice wine, though it gets more dilute each time. It tasted surprisingly good, and we even asked the driver to take some back to Phnom Penh for us, though unfortunately he had to leave in a hurry to avoid a rainstorm and wasn't able to.

Not wanting to drink on an empty stomach, we also had grilled, marinated deer jerky and grilled dried snake. And rice, of course. This is Cambodia after all. (OK, to be honest, I went back to the hotel and had a lovely western meal afterwards.)

Sethy and I drinking the delicious rice wine.

This was the adorable son of the food stand owner. He loved watching us snack and chat.

The next day we went to the "3S River Celebration," an NGO-organized consciousness-raising and information-sharing event to bring together people from communities along the 3S rivers (Sesan, Sekong, and Srepok) who have been or maybe affected by the damming. While Cambodian villagers--many who were poor and various ethnic minorities--came from fairly long distances to attend, unfortunately only one government official showed up.

Consciousness-raising Cambodia-style. The event was held in the meeting hall of a pagoda, and we all sat on the floor...for hours...and you can't let your feet point at anyone because that is considered incredibly rude. (Because we were the VIPs, we were seated in front facing the audience. I'm in the white t-shirt behind the post in the middle of the photo.) Physical flexibility and a high tolerance for discomfort should be hiring criteria for the Foreign Service.

Talking to the press after the event.

On this trip, even going home was an adventure--we booked tickets in a tiny Cessna. The plane is operated by Missionary Aviation Fellowship, whose main goal is--you guessed it--to get missionaries into and out of remote places. However, they don't have enough business from just missionaries, so they also take NGOs and embassies (but not the general public). At $100 for a one-way plane ticket and a 1 1/2 hour ride vs. a 12 hour drive, they were a great deal! But what a tiny plane! Only six seats (including the pilot) and Jim had to sit in the co-pilot's seat.

We had also hoped to fly up to the northeast, but the plane was already booked so we had to drive instead. Chatting with other passengers on the way back, they said..."Oh, that was the Williamsons. They're missionaries in Mondulkiri and they just got back from home leave in Australia." Imagine one family (with four kids) is enough to sell out the whole airplane!

Our tiny plane...

and the tiny airport. The airport was never actually unlocked. We just stood under the little roof at the entrance to get out of the rain. Shortly before the plane was to land, the pilot called a moto driver on a cell phone and the moto driver went to get all the joy-riders off the dirt runway.

See that little wooden structure with the funky roof on the left? That's the control tower. And no one was inside.

The views from the plane were amazing. Here you can see illegal logging in progress.

And on a happier note, here is the Mekong, weaving its way through the Cambodian countryside.