Cassava and Chickens in Rural Cambodia
- stemeillon
- Dec 6, 2024
- 10 min read
This post is a few weeks late; it's been pretty hectic. But I really wanted to highlight this experience in Cambodia, working with incredible people and getting to know more about the culture.
The next leg of our journey together in Cambodia was to go work on a rural farm for 4-5 days. I found the farm in Svay Leu, belonging to a Mr. Bunnet Kim, through Workaway and he was kind to accept us even for a short stay. We arrived in the late afternoon after a tricky time finding someone to drive us there, and walked 20 minutes from the road to his house. He came from the fields to meet us and show us the volunteer accommodation, which was in a cute red-brick house. There were two big beds in the main room and one in a separate room, which my dad quickly claimed. No mattresses or mosquito nets, but we had fans that we could run the whole night to keep the mosquitoes away. We were delighted to discover two very young kittens in a little crib next to our beds. We swept a bit and then found out his girlfriend was coming for the next few days since it was the water festival, and she would make dinner for us.
About Bunnet: He is about 40 years old, and as a kid he moved from his village to a bigger city so that he could attend good schools. Then he studied architecture and worked successfully in Bangkok for a number of years. He moved back to his home village in 2019 with his newborn son Apipol to start his goal of building a house for his mom and building an English school for the village. He used the money from his architecture days to build a big main house, a smaller guest house, and a beautiful little room for his mother with a porch over a lake. Then Covid struck and he was unable to work and keep making money, so he invested all his time into the construction project. A year ago, his mother passed away; she was only 57. I believe this was very hard for Bunnet and little Apipol, who then went to live with Bunnet’s new girlfriend in a village about an hour and a half away. This way, Bunnet could focus full-time on farming cassava and making money to invest into a chicken farm, which he then wanted to invest in the school. He only sees his son once or so per week; I know that this weighs heavily, and it makes him all the braver for taking on these goals. I really hope he can accomplish it.
That first night, Charlotte, Anni, and I helped his girlfriend Nuun clean pork meat and chop vegetables for dinner. They use water from a 70 m well to shower, go to the toilet, and clean, but use a bucket with rainwater for cooking and have to go to town for safe drinking water. The well water is pressurized by a huge tank about 5 m up behind the house, and as such they can use running water from a pipe on the ground outside. Bunnet’s friends came to eat with us, one called Mr. Cool and the other one whose name I could never remember… Mr. Cool brought homemade wine and jungle tobacco that his mother grows, which they roll up with leaves as papers. I was eager to try the wine, although Bunnet cautioned it gave him diarrhea the last time he tried some. So I only had a sip, and that was fine by me. They were all so friendly and funny, and we spent the night learning Khmer phrases and talking about their lives here.
We all went to bed and around 2 in the morning my dad clambered onto the other side of my bed. I was confused but went back to sleep. It turns out that in his room there was a bat shitting on him from the ceiling, little termites scooting all over his blankets, and spiders crawling around in the bed. He was understandably super freaked out, hence the room change. The next morning we woke up and had a mango for breakfast, not sure what else there was to eat, and went to help Bunnet in the cassava fields. We spent hours going through rows and stepping on weeds so that when they came through to spray for weeds, the chemical would only get on the weeds and not the cassava plants. They carried 70 lbs of herbicide with just two simple straps on their backs; Bunnet said when he first started wearing it, his back would bleed from the effort and he eventually just adapted to the strain.
Three young children came cheekily up to us and I offered them a flower I had just plucked. From that point on, they came up every few minutes with a handful of flowers for each of us. Even their little brother, who must have been 3 or 4, would bring me a little branch or frond from a plant, it was adorable. They would say “I love you!” and give a kiss on the cheek. Me not knowing how kids work, I think one was trying to kiss my cheek or forehead or something but she got awfully close to my mouth so instead I kissed her on the nose and we both looked very confused. But then she ran off and brought me more flowers.
Bunnet insisted we take breaks during the hottest parts of the day, and we would go sit outside in front of the fan. Nuun made us lunch as well, it was great with lots of ginger and lemongrass. That night was the full moon and we went to the village to see the festivities--there were gigantic speakers situated at the base of a beautiful tree that blasted music to the whole rural area. The whole party took place in front of the ornate pagoda, and when we got there the locals drew us into a dance; it was awesome, they alternated traditional music and extremely loud modern EDM with traditional samples. We danced with all these different women and grannies who showed us the dance they do. Everyone was staring and taking pictures and videos of us; I don’t think they ever have Caucasian visitors…
Some guy kept offering us free water and drinks and was very kind, but was quickly acting strange and possessive of us. We told him we were leaving and started walking away, so he said goodbye and seemed sad. Charlotte and Anni wanted to leave and started walking back to the farm, a 30-minute walk, but the guy started following them. They started shouting at him to leave them alone and, finally, crazy screaming scared him away. It also raised the attention of the neighbors, who immediately called Bunnet and the cops on the guy, who has a history of harassing people. Bunnet rushed to find them and drove them home the rest of the way. Meanwhile my dad and I got tired from the dancing and the piercingly loud music, and Bunnet came to pick us up as well. I’m just glad it ended okay for Charlotte and Anni, who I’m sure with karate and trapeze under their belts woulda beat him up if it was necessary.
The next day we were all a bit hungover and woke up late. Bunnet gave me some sweet beans in a plastic bag that you cut the corner off and suck the beans out… it was a very… new… experience, tasty though. Bunnet said he needed to go for a ride so I joined him on the back of his bike, and Anni on the back of Nuun’s bike, to go 30 minutes to his other farmland and check on his cassava plants. The drive was beautiful and it really felt like we were in the middle of nowhere. However I think he felt discouraged because some of the plants had died. But given it’s his first time farming cassava he is doing a great job.
The rest of the day we helped with a bit more cassava and worked on the chicken coop, putting beams back in place and nailing sheet metal as a fence. The hardest part was the heat and the ants that crawled up our legs and bit us at every opportunity. That night we showered and had a nice dinner again with Bunnet and his friends, this time going to one of their houses and eating on a table under a big tree. We had a delicious meal and, to my dad’s horror and our delight, we realized it was seasoned with red ants like we ate in the jungle. Prompted by a monstrous centipede we saw the night before, Mr. Cool told us a story about how eating centipedes or scorpions or a poisonous animal makes you stronger and your skin becomes impenetrable. He also said if you eat plain chiles they call you a parrot because eating chiles makes you talk more (at this moment, Charlotte and Anni were gaggling in their made-up twinstinct-type language, Sodalite, and Anni was casually eating chiles as if they didn’t make my mouth explode).
Bunnet explained that when he is home without his girlfriend, he never cooks because he doesn’t have the time or energy after spending so many hours in the fields. Ever since his mom passed about a year ago, he has put more focus on building relationships in his community and found a supportive group of friends.
The next day we kept working on the chicken coop; Charlotte was especially motivated, and at the end of the day we were able to start filling the coop with chickens that Bunnet caught and clipped. We had a nice break in the heat of the day so Anni and I had a road beer while she, Charlotte, and I went for a little walk.
On our last day the others finished the chicken coop while I picked up tons of trash around the property to then burn it in a big bonfire, we also did some general cleaning. For dinner Bunnet offered to kill a rooster for us! Mr. Cool came to help because Bunnet didn’t want to kill a chicken that he’d raised since its chick-hood. Bunnet found the chicken and Mr. Cool killed it, calling it as you would in French “coq” which obviously has a different meaning in English…
Graphic description of the chicken-killing process for those who are curious; if you are vegetarian read at your own risk: first he took a knife and cut the main artery in the neck, collecting the blood in a bowl. The chicken remained struggling and alive for a long time, during which he cleaned out the neck with running water. He then boiled some water and put the now almost-dead chicken inside to soften the skin and begin plucking off all the feathers. When the coq was completely naked he started chopping—I made the mistake of sitting next to him and got splattered with guts and blood… He chopped it into all of its pieces, cleaned out the insides, and then put it to cook with tons of lemongrass, some chiles, a cousin of ginger root, garlic, and the blood from the bowl. Something I noticed was that, where we would relish in eating the chicken wing or drumstick, here Mr. cool just chopped everything into small pieces, going straight through the bone. He cooked it for a very long time to get the meat tender, and it was delicious.
After dinner we enjoyed plenty of beer and Bunnet offered to make us a cocktail and disappeared. He came back with some eggs from the chicken coop and mixed the raw yolks with beer and lime and sugar. I like to say I’ll try anything once, and this time it paid off because for some reason unbeknownst to me, it was actually very good. He then disclosed it was just an experiment and he’d never made something like that. He also rimmed our beer cans with salt. I think this was one of my favorite nights in Cambodia. So much laughing shared and culture exchanged.
The next morning we had some crackers, cleaned up the mess from before, nursed our beer headaches, and drank a bit of tea and coffee. We walked to the main road, accompanied by Bunnet and his friend, and said our goodbyes only to get into the most packed van I’ve ever been in (I think). My buttocks were shared between many different corners of varying surfaces (seat, a cooler, the console). Anyway.
The time we spent with Bunnet was eye-opening for all of us in different ways, although I can only really speak to my own perceptions. I think, by the end, everyone adjusted in some extent to our cushioned version of the Cambodian farm lifestyle. Having been in Mongolia, the farm life was more recently familiar and I don’t think it was as big of an adjustment for me. And here it was warm and we had running water and a rice cooker! Many more bugs, though, and the heat and humidity are formidable. Bunnet’s hardworkingness is so admirable and courageous, and we all learned a lot from his lighthearted and kind character. If you feel sympathetic to his cause, even $1 can go a very long way. For the cost of an overpriced coffee you could help support this man and his community! So imagine….
From Bunnet's we went to Siem Reap, a tourist city, to see the famous temples of Angkor Wat. They were indeed beautiful, although I think we were all pretty tired. Charlotte, Anni, and my dad left a day or two before me to go to the beach and I stayed behind to enjoy the city and spend time with my new friend Lao, who kindly showed me some amazing hidden gems (his full-time job is being a guide there). If you ever go to Angkor Wat and need a guide you should book his tour! Cambodia Overland Travel
We hung out with his fellow guide friends, went to a temple in the middle of the jungle, ate good food, had incredible coconut coffee, and went to fun bars, one night drinking with his friends who are professional mine diffusers--what!? Then I left and spent one night at a MadMonkey hostel in Phnom Penh that felt like a frat, and was off to India in the morning.
Cambodia left my jaw sore from all the smiling--the people and the culture are so welcoming, hardworking, and reflect the warmth of their environment. I hope to one day come back and see my friends and learn more from this admirable country.
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