Истории Phnompenh

Here in Phnom Penh, there are seventeen radio stations on the FM dial, even though Cambodia's capital city has a population of less than a million. But you are more likely to hear a song by Britney Spears or Madonna on the 'BBC World Service' (100 FM here) than on any of the local FM stations. Only one, 'Love FM' 97.5, plays Western music and its playlist stretches solely from the obscure ('Pretty Boy' seems to be the most requested song) to the bizarre (New Kids On The Block?). The rest of the local stations play exclusively Cambodian music. It's radio, Jim, but not as we know it. Several hundred hours of radio listening suggest two Cambodian programme formats that could be adopted in the West:

Dear John Since we last spoke before Xmas, I have made a move .... to Phnom Penh. I am writing this sitting on a hotel balcony overlooking the Mekong River. How did this happen? Nearly two years ago, when I was living in Brighton, I was interviewed by the BBC World Service Trust for a job managing their projects in Africa and Asia. I didn't get the job but they said they would get back to me if something suitable came up. I heard nothing more until the week before Xmas, when a message was left on my voicemail asking me to call the BBC office about a possible consultancy job in the New Year. Apparently, they had contacted Owen [Leach, former colleague at Star TV India and Metromedia International Inc.] to track down where I was now, he had told them about my job at the Radio Authority, which they found was closed, so they tried Ofcom. They wanted me to go to Cambodia as early as possible in 2004 to support their project there that was partnered with three Phnom Penh radio stations. Could I spare two or three months? [see blog]

I pull back the bedroom curtains and, from my window, see a huge elephant ambling along the promenade above the Mekong River. I know it must be 6:30 a.m. Every day at this time Sam Bo, the only elephant in Phnom Penh, walks to his day-job giving rides to children around the base of the city's only hill. The street beside him is already filled with rush-hour traffic, since most shops and offices open daily at seven. Weaving in and out between huge chrome-clad and tinted windscreen four-by-fours driven by NGO staff and government officials are hundreds of motorbikes, which have totally replaced the humble bicycle as Cambodians' preferred mode of transport. If there is a Highway Code, nobody seems to have read it. Confusingly, traffic travels in both directions on both sides of the road and often on the pavement too.

June. 2019 #1 in Khmer April. 2020 #1 in sciencefiction ; បរាសិត គឹសំដៅលើភាវៈរស់ដែលពឹងផ្អែកលើគេ ព្រមទាំងផ្តក់ផលប៉ះពាល់ឱ្យគេបន្ថែម។ កម្រងរឿងបរាសិត គឺជាអក្សរសីល្ប៍បែបវិទ្យាសាស្រ្តប្រឌិត ដែលរៀបរាប់អំពីជីវភាពរស់នៅរបស់តួអង្គនីមួយៗ មុននិងក្រោយការដួលរលំរបស់ព្រះរាជាណាចក្រកម្ពុជា បន្ទាប់ពីវាត្រូវបានវាយលុកដោយជម្ងឺដ៏កាចសាហាវមួយ ដែលអាចកែប្រែប្រជាជនស្លូតត្រង់ឱ្យទៅជាបិសាចសម្លាប់មនុស្សគ្មានញញើតដៃ។ នៅក្នុងភាគទីមួយនេះ ពួកយើងនឹងបានស្គាល់តួអង្គបី។ វាសនា ដែលហ៊ានលះបង់ជីវិតខ្លួនឯងដើម្បីម្តាយជាទីស្រឡាញ់។ ខេអស ដែលមានសំណាងមួយលើមួយរយ អាចរស់នៅបន្ត ទោះមនុស្សជុំវិញខ្លួនបានស្លាប់បាត់អស់ទៅហើយ និងផាវីន ដែលបានក្លាយជាមូលហេតុដែលខេអសត្រូវបន្តដំណើរផ្សងព្រេងរបស់គេ។ Note : This the Khmer version. Please be patience while I'm working on the Parasite : The Last Light (the English version, duh!). Art by: Ryan Van Dogen Cover by: mith1na XOXO

We were standing in a concert hall designed like a futuristic room on the 'Discovery One' spaceship in the film '2001'. Every feature was brilliant white. White plastic seats. White walls. White ceiling. When the house lights were switched on, it was a dazzling sight. In 1968, my father had accompanied me to watch that sci-fi movie at our local cinema because my school project concerned the American space race. Simultaneously, maybe an unknown architect somewhere had exited a theatre, sufficiently inspired by Stanley Kubrick's cinematic vision to design their next project, this room, all-white.

I was standing over the motionless body of my line manager. He was dead to the world, naked under the sheet on his bed. Neither my arrival in his studio apartment through its wide-open front door, nor the chatter of little 'street boys' passing up and down the building's internal staircase, nor the morning sunshine streaming through the open windows, nor the noise of rush hour traffic on the road below seemed to have stirred him. Should I call out? Should I nudge him? Since the limit of my responsibilities to the BBC had already been sorely tested by a recent health & safety 'issue', I decided that playing butler to my boss would stretch my patience one step too far. I turned around, leaving him asleep, walked out and descended the stairs to rejoin the driver waiting out front in the BBC SUV.

We first met in a small bar, by the Phnom Penh riverside. He was blatantly checking me out in my lacy red dress and I was doing the same, raking my eyes over that sharp jaw and broad shoulders. And even with my bad eyesight, I could tell that his eyes were such a deep, dark brown that they looked black, but I didn't dare stare into them for too long. If I had, I would've seen the look in his eyes, and known to stay away.

So who made God?

"I understand you're an expert in messaging," said the woman sat behind the desk. I looked blank. I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. If she meant SMS text messaging, I did not even own a mobile phone! "I was told you are experienced in capacity building," continued the woman, undeterred. I looked even more blank. What on earth was she talking about? I had just flown half way around the world. This was my first meeting with the boss of the project where I was to work. Yet I had zero understanding of what she had just said. I began to wonder if the office back in London had mistakenly sent the wrong person (me) to the wrong location (Phnom Penh, Cambodia). Did she think I was someone else? I had been sent here to do radio training. Had the international wires become crossed somewhere?