Fishing with Mother

Like most of my visitors, mum absolutely loved Phnom Srok! We arrived extremely tired in the late afternoon and fell straight into bed after I had rejected invitations of joining a colleague’s party nearby. We ate a very traditional Khmer dinner when we woke up, prepared by my landlady’s family which was delicious, and as mum went back to bed I joined the party as my conscience reminded me that however tired you might be it is very rude in Khmer culture to turn down an invitation and switch your phone off! Oops!

We had a relaxing day on Thursday motoing around the district and I took mum to see Phnom Srok’s main attractions; Tropieng Tmar reservoir and the traditional silk weaving houses. We took the long way to the lake so mum could enjoy the scenery of bright green rice fields and wooden houses and get a grand view of the reservoir. We enjoyed lunch and some time out in the little bamboo shacks near the restaurants and visited silk weavers on the way back home where we were easily persuaded to buy some! Mum was continually bombarded with new experiences and she commented on how exhausting but stimulating and exciting it was to constantly see, hear, do, smell and taste everything which was different to anything from home. Sitting on the floor to eat was challenging as the day was topped off by a dinner invitation from Daney and her family where we were treated to even more delicious Khmer home cooking and mum got to meet some more of my friends and colleagues. She even made some Scotch pancakes to share some traditional English baking!
I had been waiting for Friday for months! Mr Chamroeurn (the accountant from my DOE and owner of the breakfast restaurant I frequent), had been promising for what feels like an age, to teach me how to fish with a large net. I have seen men and boys at various times throwing this huge circular net weighted with metal rings which looked like a bicycle chain, into water to catch fish. The net is held in such a way and thrown in such a way that it opens to its biggest circle before dropping into the water (if you do it right!) and with any luck when it’s pulled back out it is full of small fish. Watching the whole performance beggars the question whether all the effort is worth such a small looking catch? I learnt however, that these small fish can be immediately fried whole to provide a tasty snack or they are used to make a Khmer favourite; prohok. In English, prohok gets called Khmer cheese but this is not because it contains any dairy products! Oh no! It is called cheese because it smells like cheese. It is really fermented fish. This is one dish my Western taste buds have still not been able to adjust to; in fact it makes me want to heave so I avoid prohok at all costs. It was fun catching the fish though!
Mr Chamroeurn is quiet a quiet and very well mannered man at my work place. I have been reminding him of his promise to teach me to fish for months and he always told me that November was the best time. So what better time in November than during mum’s visit! He has a gentle face and was an exceptionally patient and understanding teacher of his two clueless barang fishing students. There were many people out fishing, some because it provides a free meal and some just for fun. The Boat Race and Water Festival marks the end of the rainy season and the beginning of fishing season in Cambodia and as water poured out of weir from the reservoir many men and children used nets to catch hundreds of small fish.

It was a complicated preparation of the net, folding, holding, gripping and separating and using both hands to do different things. Mr Chamroeurn spoke to us in Khmer, we spoke back in English, there were lots of smiles, more than lots of failed or pathetic attempts, but eventually lots of caught fish! The lovely thing was that Daney joined us for a lesson as well as some of the kids from the village who had come along with their parents. We entertained them no end and they encouraged us with giving us their opinions on our efforts, sometimes “Very good” and sometimes “Not good!”.
In the evening we joined Mr Sophan and his wife for fresh fruit ice cream, an evening snack enjoyed in the village and Mr Sophan introduced mum to some other guests at the table as ‘mdai kaun Khnom’ which roughly translates as the ‘mother of my child’. Mum found this highly amusing and Mr Sophan explained that I am his adopted English daughter. He called mum Bong Srei (older sister) so we all immediately became members of the same family, and he repeatedly commented on my mother’s good health particularly at her ripe old age of 61! It felt like we had been eating all day as when we returned to the house we were presented with pork from the pig we had watched being killed that morning. I don’t think I would’ve had the stomach to watch 6 months ago but I’m hardening to country living and thought I should see what happens (especially after being woken up at Corine’s house in Sisaphon in the early hours by the squealing of dying swine at the abattoir next door!). It was vivid and gruesome by the way and yes, I did take some photographs but have refrained from posting them on the blog due to the graphic images – not for the squeamish!