Part of the Family

In the report, written by the big cheese from VSO Programme Office in Phnom Penh, to review my placement after 4 months, he commented that ‘Anna is like one of the family’ when referring to my relationship with the landlady’s family. I accommodate the top floor of a guesthouse, well, a landing space and in theory 4 bedrooms, a balcony and a roof. The floor below is still used as a guesthouse and is very rarely inhabited by random visitors to Phnom Srok. It’s empty rooms are swept daily by two young girls while 3 days a week my floor is cleaned by one of the landlady’s daughters. We didn’t see eye to eye in the early days but we now enjoy a more distant relationship whereby when I go to work, she cleans. It works perfectly and I find it much more comfortable than her coming in any day and any time she likes!

When I read the report I remember wondering how on earth the big cheese had come to this conclusion. Which ‘part of the family’ did he think I was? I am still treated a bit like a queen by some members who shoo the kids out the way when I come to sit down or get the dirty rag out to ‘clean’ the dirty table top for me to sit at. Some family members literally chase the kids away if they dare some near me which is a bit of a shame. I sometimes wonder are they trying to protect me from their noise and mischief or them from me? Would that make me some very important Great Aunt?

I am smiled at lots, generally given the time of day and helped out with my bags when using one of the sons’ taxis to get to Sisaphon at the weekend. This is a very convenient arrangement for me however there is not a discount in sight. I once arranged the taxi at the beginning of the week and checked with Bong not to forget to pick me up to which I was given the reply ‘I don’t forget money!’ Hmmm, which part of the family is that then? The rich parent?

I often have dinner cooked by the landlady in the evening. It’s pot luck what is served up and it ranges from plain hard boiled duck eggs and fried fish to gorgeous green curry, all with rice of course. The landlady, bless her heart, has stopped charging me for the dinners, despite my initial protestations. It was about a dollar a dinner (50p) which was a bargain, saved me a trip to the market and a challenging independent cooking marathon which usually resulted in me throwing out more than I ate. I make sure that I buy her some fruit or something as a gesture of thanks. Now, what family member might that make me? The poor, younger sibling who can’t/won’t cook?

And I always eat alone out the front of the shop below my humble abode. Just once have I been invited into the house to eat with the family. What’s that all about? What family member does that make me? The dog?

I don’t think I will ever become like a family member. I am treated very well (particularly if it involves me giving them money for something!) but most of the time I am generally ignored. In this respect, perhaps I am just like a family member. In some ways I feel just like the 8 month old baby: totally clueless as to what is going on around me, depending on tone of voice or very slow speech to understand what is being said to me but always willing to smile back at a friendly face!