Christmas in Cambodia

The language school in the village where I am living recently had a "Christmas" celebration. I say so because I don't really even recall the word "Christmas" being mentioned at all, or only in passing. The event was more of a singing and dancing contest for the students of the school. The older brother in family entered the duet competition with Srei Peu, the young woman I interviewed in a previous post. They won first place and a free year of study at the school.



I was asked to play the trumpet to accompany some students singing a traditional Khmer song. The song was about the process of harvesting rice in Cambodia, and many other students were involved in acting out the words of the song, especially the sifting of the rice. It was nice to finally have a chance to play the trumpet over here.

They asked me to give a speech, though I admit I was at a loss at what to say.

Pictures from Ka Yeaw Village

Below are some more pictures that depict various aspects of life in the village.


Although I am focusing on studying smot, I have also been continuing my study on the tro sao, a Khmer stringed instrument.

This is the stunning view, not really captured in the picture, from the top of the hill. The village in the picture is Tropeang Po village, where many of the smot students live.

This young monk of 34 years is the abbot of the small monastery on top of the hill.

Neighbors frequently come to visit and chat. The jars behind store rainwater for domestic purposes.

This month is the time to harvest rice in Cambodia. Although my efforts did not help out very much, I did get a chance to learn to work different stages in the rice harvesting process (schything, threshing, etc.)

This is one of several "major" roads in the village, though its main traffic are carts pulled by cattle and people traveling by bicycle.

This is a rear view of the house where I am living. The large yard is mostly for cattle.

This small hall is main meeting center in the village and the site of most religious ceremonies. The well is used in the dry season when the rainwater has been used up. However, the well is currently in need of repair and most people use the pond instead.

This is the main pond in the village, and where most people fetch water for household use. It is also a common place to bathe. To my knowledge, everyone boils their water before drinking it.

Scenes from the Speu

An aspring young trumpeter and his crafty assistants

Where I sleep and study

A memorial celebration in the village

Prum Uth (with the microphone) serving as MC (ta achary) at the memorial ceremony

Left to right: Bunteang (son, 19), me, Prum Uth, and his wife.

"I Hope That We Will Have It Forever"

I recently conducted an interview for Cambodian Living Arts (CLA) in the village where I am studying smot in Kompong Speu. The aim of the interview was to get an idea of how the CLA class has changed the lives of the young smot students in the village.

Pheuan Srey Peu, 15, lives in Tropeang Po village in Kompong Speu Province, where she has been studying in CLA's smot (a form of vocal funeral music) class since January 2004. Currently a ninth-grade student at the local public school, Ms. Srey Peu had never had any musical training before the masters Prum Uth and Gaut Ran began to teach smot in a newly-founded CLA class almost two years ago.

Smot is a particulary difficult form of music for young Cambodians to learn because the melodies and vocal style are unlike any other form and the words of the songs use many Pali words and cryptic vocabulary that is often highly removed from everyday Khmer speech. Nevertheless, the form is deeply integral to Khmer culture, especially for Cambodian Buddhism, and when Srey Peu found out that the master musician Ieng Sithul would hold auditions for a smot class, she was immediately interested.

She had always loved traditional Khmer music, and was especially interested in singing. However, she had never had any opportunity to study these forms. In addition, she recalls that she liked going often to the local wat, offering food to monks, and listening to the elders of the village chant Buddhist scripture. Her only experience hearing smot, however, had been at the funerals she attended over the courser of her life, and before the smot class came to her village, she had not been interested in it.

Ms. Srey Peu has excelled in her studies of smot so far, and was quickly identified as one of the most promising students in the class, especially for her well-developed voice and amazing mental capacity to commit smot songs to memory. Even though she is still a student, she is frequently asks to perform smot songs at various functions at the local wats, much to the appreciation of the older members of the community.

In her words, "Before I began to study smot, I was interested in singing traditional Khmer songs, but I never I had the chance to study. So I only thought of myself as a normal, average person. After having studied smot, we have the feeling that we are special and extraordinary, because we are young and yet we know how to smot and we know about Buddhist chants." Srey Peu is known throughout the village and neighboring ones for her beautiful voice when she sings smot.

When she graduates from high school, Ms. Srey Peu says she is very interested in teaching smot to children, like the smot masters in the CLA class have done for her, because she wants the traditional smot songs of the Khmer people to not disappear and instead continue to be part of the rebirth of Khmer society.

Through CLA's smot class, Ms. Srey Peu has been able to discover and explore her talents a musician and smot singer, and thereby find direction to her life that she otherwise would not have had. She says that the class and her developing career in smot singing have given great joy and meaning in her life, and she now feels she has a chance to rise out of bleak future afforded by a life of farming in her village. Although she speaks truthfully that a good salary is probably the most important consideration for her future employment, she says that if a career solely based on teaching and performing smot would be a possibility for her, she would pursue this without hesitation.

Indeed, in the coming years such a career may be a possible one for her, but in truth, whatever career she ultimately pursues, smot singing and her passion for teaching it will be present, because in her own words, she says that "I don't want it to disappear, and hope that we will have it forever."

Up on the heights

Some of the students in the smote class and I recently had a chance to hike up the mountain pictured below. The view from the top is incredible, and I'm afraid that the photos below don't really capture that. I will write more about my experiences here soon, but in short, living in this village has been one of the happiest times of my life. The friends I've made, the kindness of the neighbors, the beauty of the landscape, the talent of my fellow students of smote, the wisdom of my teachers--all are indescribable and I feel very grateful to be here.

Queen Maya's Lamentation

I've currently been helping out with one of Cambodian Living Arts' CD projects. The song translated below has been proposed to appear on a CD feauturing various kinds of tradtional Khmer music, including smote. For the liner notes, I have worked on researching background info on this particular song and writing an English translation for it.

The name of the song is, in an English transciption of the Khmer, "Tumnuonh Neang Sere Moha Maya." An appropriate English translation would be "Lamentation of Queen Maya."

The context of this song is similar to other smote pieces, in that it used primarily in funeral ceremonies, particularly when a sick person is on verge of death. Smote songs, which recount Buddhist teachings or stories in poetic form, are used to direct the mind of the dying person towards the Buddhist trinity, or Three Jewels: the Buddha, his teaching, and his disciples, so that they will be reborn in a favorable realm. This particular ceremony is called samwek, and this particular song is one of many that can be used for that occasion, to be sung by either monks or laypeople.

The content of the song is centered around the Buddha's mother, Queen Maya, lamentation for her son, who has left the palace where he was a prince and heir to the throne, gone deep into forest, and taken up extreme austerities, including eating very little food, in order to reach enlightenment. The Buddha later realized the futility of his efforts and accepted food in order to nourish his body and mind, after which he finally attained enlightenment. Before this, however, he became extremely thin and weak, to the point that he was practically only skin and bones, and the shape his backbone became visible from the front. Queen Maya, having died only seven days after his birth, is told by her fellow gods in the realms of heaven that her son, now in his thirties, has become very weak and emaciated. It is at this point that she begins her lament.

This particular song is closely related to another that I have been studying, called "Bandam Neang Moha Maya Devi Jampuah Neang Goutamei," or "The Admontions of the Buddha's Mother Maya for Lady Gotami." A translation of this song follows below the translation of "Lamentation of Queen Maya."

Lamentation of Queen Maya (Tumnuonh Neang Sere Moha Maya)

O my son, my dear son!
You have become so thin and weak.
And your mother feels great sorrow for you,
Sorrow that exceeds all comparison.

O my child, seven days after your birth,
Your mother suddenly passed from this world,
And ascended to the highest realms of heaven,
Where she now resides with the gods.

I, your mother have heard from the gods
That you, my child, were born into a beautiful body,
Magnificent in form and free from disgrace.
So now why have you become so emaciated?

Your mother has come to see your body, O child!
She feels great sorrow, and her heart
Grows soft with pity to see you like this.
For what reason do you do this, my son?

The Admontions of the Buddha's Mother Maya for Lady Gotami (Bandam Neang Moha Maya Devi Jampuah Neang Goutamei)

"Dear Lady Gotami, o younger sister!
Please remember this advice
That I admonish so strongly on to you.
Please, younger sister, be kind and forgiving to me.

"Elder sister gave birth to a beloved son,
Only to live as a his mother for seven days.
Seven days, younger sister!
Death came and blocked my path.

"Sister, this child is remarkable indeed.
Wise sages came to pay respect to him.
His is called Siddartha according to the law.
For the benefit of all living beings,

"Our beloved son will attain enlightenment,
Knowing all paths to salvation by his own effort.
Many will come to ask for his help,
Granting abundant happiness to humans and gods alike.

"Younger sister! Please be determined
And have compassion for this child.
Let him suckle at your breast
And care for him with your own hands.

"Sister, don’t lost your fortitude
And call on servants to care for him.
Raise him with your own strong arms
And know that this is true love."

Having finished giving her admonitions,
She passed away and her life was finished,
To be reborn in the Tusita heaven,
Resplendent in numberless colors and powers.

The reason that Queen Maya was born
In the blissful Heaven of the Thirty-three,
Is that many gods there could inform her
About the exceeding virtue of her beloved son.

There came a time when the Buddha
Wandered back and forth across a stretch of forest
Staying for four reasons
In the Uruvela forest in the city of Gaya.

His body grew emaciated till his bones poked through,
His eyes grew bleary, wide-open beyond description,
As he collapsed down to the earth,
Enduring terrible suffering but still alive.

At that time the beautiful Queen Maya
Descended from paradise to come take a look
At the body of the Blessed One.
I humbly now finish this poem.

Written Culture

My smote teacher, Proum Uth, is also the head layperson (ta achar) at a temple on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, and one day, when he returned his wat back to Kompong Speu, he came with a most unusual book, unlike any I had ever seen in Cambodia. The book brick-shaped, narrow but long and thick,


and opened in a concertina arrangement, rather like an accordion.

Inside the book were hand-written texts for the smote songs most often used at funeral ceremonies,

written in unfailingly beautiful Khmer script.

He later explained that this sort of manuscript was called a krang. We then began to study some the smote songs contained within. After doing some more research on the subject, I found out some more information on the history of this kind and other kinds manuscripts in Cambodia.

The history of written culture in Cambodia begins with the history of Buddhist scriptures. The teachings of the Buddha were passed down orally for about five hundred years before monks began to start writing them down on palm leaves. This tradition of palm-leaf manuscripts came to Cambodia with the spread of Buddhism, especially with the conversion of the kingdom to the Theravada branch of the religion in the 13th century. Khmer palm-leaf manuscripts were mainly used in wats to be studied and recited by the monks. Mostly written in Khmer script representing the sounds of the Pali language, palm-leaf manuscripts are difficult to handle and to study, and reading them is an art in itself. Thus the Khmer script used in the manuscripts came to be associated with mystical powers, and many rituals developed around the their use. Palm-leaf manuscripts do not last very long, and today very few Cambodian manuscripts remain from before the 19th century. They were regularly burned as a way of making merit and then recopied onto new leaves. This tradition survived as the main method of recording Buddhist scriptures and literature well in the 19th century.

The krang developed later than the palm-leaf manuscripts, but has also been a traditional method of storing Buddhist scriptures throughout Asia. Most temples in China and Japan have collections of this kind of manuscript, both for ritual use and for study. In Cambodia, krang are produced on paper made from mulberry leaves, hand-written in ink, and then bound in a folding arrangement. They generally last longer than palm-leaf manuscripts but are nearly as difficult to produce, as no printing technology is used.

With the onset of the French protectorate in Cambodian in the late 19th century, as well as the influence of reformed Siamese Buddhism from Thailand, the culture of palm-leaf and other manuscripts in Cambodia began to change. In order to increase their control over the Buddhist clergy, the French colonial government establised the Buddhist Institute in the early part of the 20th century. The Buddhist Institute set about to produce a complete translation of the Tripitaka (the corpus of Buddhist scriptures) in Khmer, at a time when most temples in Cambodia lacked even a complete Pali version of the scriptures. The was initially much resistance to the move away from hand-written manuscripts among traditionalist monks, who sensed a magic power in the ancient Khmer letters and the rituals associated with them and therefore feared a change in how the teachings of the Buddha were respected. However, although there are monks who still use the palm-leaf manuscripts, serious monastic students more often used printed literature to understand the words of the Buddha. The Buddhist Institute also printed the first Cambodian dictionary, under the leadership of Buddhist patriarch Chuon Nath, which is still the only Cambodian dictionary in use today, to my knowledge. Most importantly, the Buddhist Institure made possible the advent of print culture in Cambodia, and they have printed many hundreds of small and large volumes alike on Buddhism and traditional literature over the past seventy years. Thus most Buddhist education has changed from being focused on palm-leaf or krang manuscripts to printed books.

Today, printed books are available very cheaply in Cambodia, usually starting from around 25 cents. This is because most of the titles, both foreign and domestic, are photocopied from the original publications. Some would caracterize Cambodia as not being a very literary culture, although I would argue that this is not the case. Traditional literature is, however, to some extent endangered in Cambodia, like some many other traditional arts forms. Furthermore, the traditional manuscripts may be lost if efforts are undertaken to preserve them.

For me, it's really an honor and a wonderful opportunity to be able to study smote from the krang manuscripts and learn about the care and effort that had to go into each word before the advent of printing in Cambodia. As of late, I have been learning to type in Khmer, which is a rather slow and cumbersome process, in order to record some of the smote texts found in the manuscripts and in other sources. Even if typing now seems slow, it is fascinating to think about how much the culture around written texts in Cambodia has changed over the past one hundred years.

Three-Month Report

I suppose at this point, three months into my time in Cambodia, that I should be used to the fact that one year is indeed not very long at all. While a day in the countryside seems long and certainly tends to unfold in a more natural way than in the city, I am continually faced with the realization that in the blink of an eye my time in Kompong Speu will be over and I will be off to Siem Reap to pursue monastic ordination. Although it seems crude to do so, I will try to sum up what I have accomplished since mid-August as a way for me to make a more informed assessment of what goals I would like to pursue over the next few months.

From one perspective, I really have no idea how much my Khmer has progressed, as not being a native speaker, I have no ear for whether my accent is reasonably acceptable or if my grammar accords with modern conventions or not. However, I do know that my language skills have improved somewhat since last month, particularly in the areas of reading and listening. As I have been focusing most of my attention on the literary, Pali-laden Khmer that smote songs employ, most of my progress has been in understanding this particular style. For the most part, I am able to read texts of smote songs and understand what they are about, and with the aid of a dictionary, I can produce a reasonably coherent translation. At this point, I have stopped taking language lessons, and I notice that my speaking and writing skills, in particular, are falling behind. The smote masters obviously simplify their language when they speak with me, so I can usually understand what they are saying without difficult. Nevertheless, when it comes time to respond to them, I am often lost for words. I hope that I will have more chances to work on this.

I have been continuing my study of the tro sao, and I generally find time to practice the eight songs I have learned so far. However, my teacher Yun Theara has been, understandably so, very busy, and I have only been able to study with him on an occasional basis, about every two weeks. I have really enjoyed my studies so far, and have had some chances to share some Mahaori songs with the people in Ka Yeaw village, where I am staying in Kompong Speu.

Additionally, I have also had the opportunity to spend a good deal of time researching Khmer Buddhism, and more specifically the literature associated with Theravada Buddhist funeral rites. I have had a few chances to do relatively independent research in the past, but this is the first time that I really had no idea what I would find over the course of my research. At this point, I have identified most of the relevant English and French language material on Khmer Buddhist rituals and literature and am presently in the process of reading, rereading and taking notes on these sources. I also searching for Khmer-language sources, which has been very rewarding, and I look forward to discovering more useful texts through this process.

Now on my third week in the countryside, I am realizing the challenges of studying smote. Once I translate a particular text into English and have a clear idea of its content, I find that it is not too difficult to memorize the Khmer words, although the length of the songs certainly requires that memorization takes a significant time commitment on my part. The melodies also stretch my musical capabilities as their freedom from Western standards of rhythm and meter makes them very difficult to transcribe accurately. However, the hardest part about learning smote songs for me is pronouncing Khmer words correctly. Certain sounds in the Khmer language are very difficult for me to pronounce clearly, and I know that I will continue to struggle with these sounds as I continue my study. I am very grateful that the masters are patient enough to accommodate for my deficiencies.

As for the coming months, I have a clear idea of what path my research and writing will take. I hope that I will soon be able to find a mentor for this project, a process that should give me more direction and point out some of the many gaps and oversights in my research. I am less sure, however, about the actual study of smote. Some of the more difficult songs reportedly take months to learn, and while my pace of learning may be different, I do not have high expectations for learning more than a handful of smote songs. In my view, learning just a few songs well will be ultimately more important, to both my research and my understanding of the art more.

At the urging of my teacher Proum Uth, I have begun to study the Pali and Khmer chants used in the novice ordination ceremony. Although he recommended this course of study in order to prepare me for the monkhood, the study of Pali chants, in particular, is helping me with the pronunciation of the regular Khmer smote songs, as well as teaching me about the Pali chants used in the funeral ceremonies of which smote is a part.

Overall, I am very happy to have come to this point after three months here and I am especially grateful to have met so many people who were so willing to help me in surprising and wonderful ways. I am cautious in terms of my expectations for myself, and I hope that in the coming weeks I am able to find more direction and sense of purpose for my studies here.

Water Festival

This past week was the Water Festival in Phnom Penh, a three-day event which usually draws almost two million people from the countryside to come to the capital, which normally has a population between one and two million, depending on how the city limits are defined. I only spent a little time in Phnom Penh during the festival, as it is quite a chaotic and crowded event. At night, particularly, the streets near the water front and major parks are packed with people, and it is difficult to move. But for many Cambodians, especially those who come from the countryside, it is a wonderful event and a celebration of national pride. The boat races are the highlight of the event, with long boats (see photo above) competing head-to-head in the Tonle Sap river.

However, the countryside has its own version of the Water Festival that is equally special. Most provinces have their own boat races, but to me the most interesting part comes during the evening. The ambok (raw, unhusked rice that is crushed flat and roasted) ritual usually takes place well after the sun has set, during the night of the full moon which occurs during the three days of the water festival. The ceremony is nearly identical to that which takes place concurrently in the royal palace. The royal ceremony, ostenstibly Brahmanstic (Hindu), has mnay animistic elements as the essential purpose is predicting and petitioning for good rainfall in the coming year. However, the full moon night is also significant in Buddhism, as it is the time when monks and laypeople renew their vows to lead upright and virtuous lives.


Above is the table where food offerings are made, including bananas, coconuts, sugar cane, and ambok. The food will later be mixed together and eaten--it's quite delicious!

Because of the full moon night, Buddhist Pali chants are recited along with the animistic petitions for rain.

The three candles on the top of the wood frame represent three districts in Kompong Speu province. They were later allowed to drip thier melting wax onto the large banana leaves as a way of predicting the amount of rainfall in each district. I was very glad that I was able to witness and participate in this event and see the whole village come together, revealing many more aspects of Khmer culture than I ever would have been able to see in Phnom Penh or read in a book.

Ka Yew Village

Due to some difficulties with registering my stay in Kompong Speu with the local police, I have returned to Phnom Penh earlier than I planned and will probably return on Tuesday with the appropriate papers. Below are some photos from Ka Yew village where I am living. The two sons in the family were very eager to use the camera, so I can't claim credit for any of these photos. But I hope they give a better picture of things in Konmpong Speu than my words do.

The house where I am staying.

The "spirit house" that serves as altar to tutelary spirits (neak ta)

Teng, one of Proum Uth's sons and Proum Uth's wife.

One of Proum Uth's daughters.

Pakdey, Proum Uth's youngest son, and me.

A neighbor and his beautiful cow.

A happy neighboring family.

L'apprentissage des langues

Je viens d'écrire une lettre à mon ancien professeur du francais. Là-dedans, je discute à propos la valeur evidente de mes études du francais au lycée. Donc, je mets sur ce blog afin de montrer un autre aspect de mes travaux au Cambodge.

Quand j'ai decidé d'étudier le français, je n'étais pas tellement sûr que je pourrais utiliser cette langue à l'avenir. Cependant, j'adorais le son du français, et donc j'étais bien heureux de l'apprendre. Après avoir obtenu mon diplôme, je me suis étonné si je ne parlerais le français plus jamais. Au lycée, je me suis amusé en lisant des livres en français en dehors de la classe. Mais je savais que si je ne parlais point, ma facilité vis-à-vis le français irait se perdre tout à coup! Ainsi j'ai pensé, "pourquoi ai-je l'étudié? Quels sont les bienfaits de mon travail?"

Je suis au Cambodge depuis le mois d'août, et déjà j'ai trouvé une réponse. À l'heure actuelle, je travaille avec une organisation qui s'appelle Silapak Khmer Amatak ("Les beaux-arts vivants cambodgiens"). Pour cette organisation, ma poste est simple: étudier et faire des recherches sur la musique khmère. Bien sûr, pour ce travail il faut d'abord apprendre la langue de ce pays.

La langue cambodgienne n'est pas difficile à apprendre; la grammaire, en particulière, n'est pas complèxe. Toutefois, je trouve que la langue pose des difficultés à pronoucer droitement, et la système d'écriture, en tant qu'elle reste complètement different de l'alphabet roman, est également difficile. Néanmois, à UHS j'ai commencé à aimer l'étude des langues étragères, et donc je suis fasciné par le khmer, malgré ses difficultés. Ainsi je suis plein de graditude pour mes classes du français à UHS qui m'enseigne, surtout, la valeur et la joie de l'apprentissage des langues.

De plus, mes études du français me servent en des façons divers. Par exemple, bien que mon français, en particulière au niveau de la langue parlée, reste éparpillé des erreurs grammaticales et manque d'une vocabulaire riche, mon organisation m'a fourni l'occassion de faire la traduction khmer-français pour des visiteurs étrangères qui viennent à voir nos projets d'aide pour les musiciens cambodgiens.

Bien sûr, il y a très peu de gens qui parlent le français au Cambodge. Pourtant, c'est grâce à mes études de la langue à UHS que je peux faire des recherches aux bibliothèques à Phnom Penh, parce que la majorité des tomes sur le cambodge se sont écrits et publiés exclusivement en français. Mes recherches continue à m'interessent beaucoup, et je suis tellement heureux que j'aie trouvé un lien entre mes études en Californie et celles-ci à l'étrange et que je peux continuer à étudier la langue française.

Au demain, je vais retourner au petit village au province Kompong Speu, Cambodge, où j'habite et étudie un genre de musique qui est utilisé pour les cérémonies bouddhistes, souvent des funerailles, au Cambodge. À mars 2006, je vais se raser le cheveux et deviens un bonze dans un pagode près d'Angkor Wat, et je vais retourner aux Ètats-Unis au mois d'août 2006.

Life in the countryside

Having returned to the insanity and chaos of Phnom Penh after a very peaceful week in a village in Kompong Speu province, I now have a much better appreciation for life in the countryside. I had first envisioned that I would have a very difficult time there, but to my surprise, it is actually easier than my time in Phnom Penh.

When I arrived, I had the impression that almost everyone in the village (about sixty families) knew about me before my arrival. I am staying with the family of Proum Uth, the smote master who teaches a class near a wat on a small hill a few kilometers from the village. As Proum Uth spends the first half of each month as a achar in a wat in Kandal province, only his wife and two of his sons where living at the house when I arrived.

The house is situated on the edge of a rice field on the outer portion of the village. Like most Khmer houses, it is "on stilts," in that it sits on raised pillars to create a shaded area underneath where the family spends most of their time. The upstairs area has one room where the family sleeps, and food is prepared in a separate room attached to the house at ground level.

Electricity exists only in the form of batteries, and water used for bathing and cooking is collected in large jars. Water for drinking is boiled in the form of tea, and heat for cooked is generally firewood. I brought along a cheap gas stove, but it blew up (fortunately no one was nearby!). This makes me believe that firewood may be a little safer!

Shortly after I arrived, the two brothers took me meet some of their neighbors in the village. In general, people in Cambodian villages have a good deal of free time each day, and they tend to spend most of it visiting their neighbors or their family (who also may be their neighbors). Wherever I went, the local people always wanted me to try a new kind of fruit or vegetable. After several hours of this, I was feeling rather full but also delighted to meet so many kind and welcoming people.

The two sons, Teng, 19 and Pakdey,17, are currently studying English and other subjects at local schools in preparation for their high school graduation examinations. Pakdey is also a student in the smote class, which meets daily during the week from 4:00 PM to 6:00 PM. They are like brothers to me in many ways, and I am really enjoying being able to spend time with them. Occassionly I go to the local English to help the students there. As there are no foreign teachers there, even a relatively inexperienced teacher can fill a large gap in their English education: pronounciation and proper grammar. I probably will continue to spend a hour a day helping out there or at other schools in the area. In the evening, I am also able to help Teng and Pakdey with their homework. From my point of view, this is the least I can do for them, for not only does Pakdey help me with smote songs, but the whole family, according to Khmer tradition, does not permit me to help very much with the housework, so I am happy that I can help them in other ways.

I will post more about the smote class itself a little later, but I am really happy to finally start studying this form of religious music. I feel truly fortunate to have this opportunity, and while I know it will be a challenge for me, every aspect of smote --contextual, textual, musical, and spiritual-- is fascinating to me.

As I'm writing this, I'm in Phnom Penh, looking out a window to the Tonle Sap river, where 30-meter rowboats, holding sixty or seventy strong rowers are practicing in preparation for the Water Festival, which will take place here over the next three days. Hundreds of thousands of people come from all over Cambodia for this event, and it makes the already apparent chaos of Phnom Penh that much more acute. It's exciting, for sure, but I hope I can sneek back to the quiet of the countryside before the festival ends.

O Ananda!

I recently returned to Phnom Penh after my first week living in the countryside. I do have pictures, but I am unable to post them at the moment because I forgot the USB cable in Kompong Speu. I will also post more later about my experiences in the countryside, but in this post I will share a little more about smote.

The following is a translation and transliteration of a smote song called "Pacchimbuddhavacanak." The song is sung from the perspective of the Buddha as he is dying. Ananda was the Buddha's faithful attendant throughout his teaching career and was known for his remarkable memory; indeed, it is said that he had memorized every one of his teacher's sermons. Considering that the oral teachings of the Buddha fill over forty volumes of text, this is an impressive feat.

The Buddha referred to himself as "the Tathagata," which means "the one who comes from suchness". Tathagata could also be translated as "coming from nowhere, going nowhere". He used this appellation to emphasize his realization that living beings do have separate souls or selves and eventually return to emptiness.

This song, like all smote songs, is actually more of a poem set to a standard melody. The poem can be recited as well as sung. Each stanza consists of four lines, and the metric pattern for each stanza is five syllables, six syllables, five, six. The rhyme scheme is such that that the last syllable of the second and third lines of each stanza rhyme with the last syllable of the fourth line of the preceeding stanza. The last syllable of the first line of each stanza also rhymes will the third syllable of the second line of each stanza.

The translation does not reflect the meter or rhyme scheme, but the transliteration of the Khmer which follows the translation should make this more clear. Because smote songs often contain many Pali words (e.g. Tathagata, Ananda), I have chosen to use a transliteration system that reflects the standard way of Pali romanization, so that the Pali roots are more clear, although much phonetic representation is lost. For example, "Tathagata" is transliterated as "tathāgat," but the actual Khmer pronounciation is closer to "dahk-ta-koot."

As the most common context of smote is a funeral ceremony, this particular song is representative of many works in the genre, as it recalls the deathbed of the Buddha himself. It is also typical in its recounting of a famous Buddhist story, its frequent use of Pali words, its poetic meter, and its lamenting tone charged with exhortations to practice Buddhist teachings.

O Ananda, do not delay!

Come here immediately,

For the Tathagata will pass away.

Abandon yourself without fail.

Please dwell in happiness.

Do not be miserable, dear friend!

The Tathagata will now depart

Do not grieve, O Ananda!

Within the body of the Tathagata

The five aggregates will all be extinguished.

Please stay, O Ananda!

Try to look deeply into your body.

Every day your body

Is like a fragile plate.

It does not last long

And will surely be destroyed.

For this reason, Ananda,

Please reflect deeply,

Not about the passing of the Tathagata,

But about your own salvation.

The teaching of the Tathagata

Will surely last long

And whoever has a pure mind

Can practice the path accordingly.

Now the Tathagata

Will be extinguished in Nirvana.

Old age moves in by force,

Crushing and cutting off all life.

yo vo ānand 'aoey

nae pā 'aoey mak 'āy rā

tathāgat niṅ maranā

câk col pā min khan ḷoey

cūr pā nau 'auy sukh

kuṃ jā dukkh ṇā pā 'aoey

tathāgat lā pā hoey

kuṃ sok loey ṇā ānand

aṅg añ tathāgat

niṅ ram lát 'ás pañcakkhanth

nau cuḥ nā ānand

khaṃ gne gnân knuṅ aṅg prāṇ

kluan 'anak nau sabv thṅai

mān upameyy ṭūc jā cān

min shtit ster punmān

guṇ niṅ pān vinās dau

hetu neḥ pān ānand

cūr gne gnân git 'auy jrau

it bī tathāgat dau

'anak eṅ nau thae sāsanā

sāsanā tathāgat

sthit prākat niṅ 'anak ṇā

ṭael mān citt jrah thlā

prabrẏtt truv tām laṃ 'ān

grā neḥ tathāgat

niṅ raṃ lát khanthanibbān

ṭoy jarā cūl ruk rān

dandrān mak phtâc saṅkhār

Moving Out

It's been a long time since I've updated this site, and I regret my negligence. After a few weeks of illness, I am feeling much better and am now enjoying my last day in Phnom Penh, as I will be moving out to Kompong Speu province tomorrow. I also recently returned from Battambang province with the yike opera class from Phnom Penh. The kids performed for the opening of a new school in a village about a half hour from Battambang city. It was a really inspiring event in many ways, both in terms of the care and thought that went into the new school and the talent and dedication of the many children who performed. I also had a chance to visit some of the arts schools in the Battambang region, and I am continually reminded how important the arts are for creating healthy and dynamic societies.

As I will not have internet access in the countryside, or electricity, running water or refridgeration for that matter, I will be able to update this site only on a weekly basis, as I currently plan to return to Phnom Penh on weekends in order to continue study on the tro sau instrument. As my path of research unfolds, I am also finding more and more books and documents in the Buddhist Institute and in other libraries that are relevant to my study of smote chanting, so I also plan to be using these resources when I return to Phnom Penh periodically. I must admit that I miss going to school, and I am getting really excited about my research here. I hope I will be able to post more about it here in the future.

Smote class in Kompong Speu

I wrote a brief report about the smote class where I will studying in Kompong Speu, so I thought I would post it here to give a more-detailed picture of the art form and how it is taught.

Kompong Speu, one of poorest and least developed provinces in Cambodia, subject to both devastating drought and periodic flooding, is also the home of a remarkable class sponsored by Silapak Khmer Amatak (Cambodian Living Arts). I hesistate to call to the class of fifteen students a music class, because smote, a hauntingly beautiful form of funeral chant steeped in Buddhist teachings, is not often referred to as music by the Khmer people. An integral part of funeral rites in Cambodia, smote is performed by both monks and laypeople at a variety of religious functions, and thus is generally seen as outside the realm of secular music. Nevertheless, the smote chants are expressive, highly melodic and filled with emotional and spiritual significance, managing to transcend boundaries set by conventional definitions attributed to the sacred and secular realms alike.

Proum Uth, the master teacher for the class, brings a captivating voice, a depth of knowledge and a gentle prescence to the way he passes down the tradition of smote chants to his students. He is assisted by Kaut Ran, a smote teacher blind since the Pol Pot era, whose lively, strict and respectful approach adds further depth to the education of the students. As Master Proum Uth spends half his time as an achar, or lay Buddhist ritual specialist, at a wat outside of Phnom Penh, Master Kaut Ran also has considerable opportunity to instruct the students on her own.

The classroom for the smote class is situated in small village alongside the national road that passes through Kompong Speu Province. The village is home to two small wats, one at the summit of a small hill and the other at its base, and bright green rice fields, dotted with occassional palm and coconut trees, stretch out for miles in all directions, extending as far out as the forested mountains in neighboring provinces. The classroom itself is on the second level of a small, but well-kept wooden house at the edge of the village, and the students arrive from neighboring villages or from the local school by bike.

Every afternoon when the students assemble in the classroom, they begin with Pali and Khmer sacred chants that remind them to pay attention to the sacred nature of the smote tradition. These chants are not melodic like smote, but instead follow the traditional style of recitation of Buddhist scriptures in Cambodian wats. They then show respect to their masters and the teaching of the smote chants begins. Although the words to many of the smote chants are written down, the students, following ancient traditions of oral transmission both within Theravada Buddhism and traditional Khmer music, learn primarliy by ear, directly from the mouth and heart of the masters.

Smote holds a power to bring tears to the eyes of almost every Cambodian, as both its soulful, ethereal melodies and poetic lyrics, which speak to the bare reality of the suffering of human life, the impermanence of the body, and the mystery of death and transmigration to other realms, are heard at nearly every funeral ceremony across the country. Rarely, however, do Khmer people have a chance hear smote performed live, and most make do with an old, scratchy cassette recording. But in its live form smote is not only melancholy and somewhat frightening, but also terrifyingly beautiful, rich in poetic imagery and Buddhist philosophy.

Of all the forms of traditional Khmer music, smote seems to be the most distant from the popular trends in music today, especially for young Cambodians. But it is also very close to the heart of Khmer people everywhere, and when it is performed, its captivating and enchanting power ensures that it is not easily ignored. And the children who attend the class, ranging from about ten to seventeen years of age, with their bright smiles and playful manner, may seem like unlikely candidates to pass down this deep and mysterious art form. Yet every student, however talented she may be, brings an attitude of respect and seriousness to the class that is highly impressive, and points to both the importance of the art form and the ability of the masters to impress this importance upon their students. After listening to the students perform by themselves, it is hard not to imagine these chants not being passed down for many generations to come.

Smote Translation

Although the festival of Phchum Ben has already passed, I've been working on studying a smote chant that's traditionally connected with this Khmer holiday. Phchum Ben literally means "lump of food," but a more descriptive translation is "the festival of hungry ghosts." My language teacher gave me an old cassette recording of the chant, and I poked around in a few Khmer-language Buddhist bookstores before finding an accurate transcription of it.

What I've translated here consists of two parts, a prose introduction, which is recited and accompanied by a tro sau (the string instrument I've been studying here), followed by a section in rhymed and versed poetry, sung a cappella in the smote style. On the whole, it is very beautiful piece, though like most smote, it is exceptionally sad and melacholy, with a clear intention to make the listeners weep. I don't think my translation conveys much of this feeling at all, so I hesitate to call it anywhere near adequate; however, hopefully it will suffice to give an example of what some smoat chants are about.


Translation of Dumnuanpretrongkamma (“Lamentation of the hungry ghosts bearing the results of their sins”)

Prose introduction:

Dear honorable and noble people, young and old, men and women, the month of the Festival of Hungry Ghosts has arrived. Only think about going to the temple. Don’t just stay around the house or go out carelessly seeking pleasure, saying that giving doesn’t have a good taste and only alcohol has a good taste, cursing others as you pass by, wandering back and forth across the street. That’s enough already, please stop! Stop and reflect carefully, change yourself and do good by offering food with the others. In your free time, don’t be useless.

Smote chant (in verse):

Parents live in order to support their children. When the end of their life arrives, they don’t know where they will be reborn: on earth as humans, in heaven as gods, or in the realm of the hungry ghosts.

If they are born in the superior realms as humans or gods, this excellent state was reached for a reason, as were very fearful about falling into the lower realms and becoming hungry ghosts, where their poor bellies would be empty and without food.

Hungry ghosts only can eat pus, blood and excrement. With a miserable body worthy of pity, and a life full of terrible suffering, they don’t know when they will be reborn as humans again.

All this came about because of sins they committed to support their children, evil deeds which caused them to lose their human life and be reborn as ghosts, enduring suffering without a trace of happiness. All people, all beings, should reflect about this carefully.

Now it is the tenth month, the month of the Festival of Hungry Ghosts, and the ghosts are wailing and screaming because they miss their children. The ruler of hell is setting the ghosts free, and they come at night to find their ancestors, their children or their spouse.

How pitiful, how worthy of compassion! The ghosts have tears flowing from their eyes as they bear such heavy suffering. They go from temple to temple, watching carefully, but they don’t see their wife or children.

They only see the relatives of others. They think hard about food and nourishment, hoping there will be rice, water, bread, and sweets that invite the ancestors to come and eat, until all of them are full.

But the ghosts do not say anything. They are lonesome and abandoned, crying so pitifully, hitting their bodies near the temple, enduring terrible and immense suffering.

They pound their chests and wail loudly, screaming, “O! How pitiful this body is!” When they were humans they carried heavy loads on their backs, day and night never sleeping in order to support their children.

But now, without knowing, they have fallen into the realm of hungry ghosts. Let them eat so that they feel satisfied and don’t have to always think, “O! How full of suffering this body is—abandoned, sore, painful, and miserable!”

Kampot Province

A couple of days ago my Khmer teacher and I were acting out a scenario between two friends taking a weekend trip to the countryside. As usual, I was struggling to find the right words appropriate to the situation, but my teacher, who hadn't taken a trip out to the provinces in years, got so excited about it that he insisted that we go the coming weekend. It's always good practice for me to speak with people in the countryside, who generally speak different dialects than in the city, so I was also excited to leave Phnom Penh for a brief while.

We traveled to Kampot province, which borders the ocean at the southwestern corner of the country. This part of the country is not nearly as flooded as the part along the road to Siem Reap, where it sometimes seemed that we were driving across an immense lake. In contrast, Kampot province, full of beautiful rivers and mountains, was relatively dry. I am sorry that I didn't bring a camera along, because the areas we visited are among the most beautiful I have ever seen, in Cambodia and in the world.

Along the way, we stopped near a hill that had many caves. The caves, inhabited and used as temples for well over a thousand years, are still a site for religious pilgrims. Although a Buddhist wat has been constructed near the caves, the temples inside date from the sixth century, long before Buddhism became the state religion. Thus the temples are dedicated to tutelary spirits (neak ta) or Brahmanistic deities (usually Shiva). We had a chance to talk to a lot of people about the history of the caves, though I admit I didn't understand everything the people were saying. But some of the young boys who lived near the caves were able to show us into some unbelievable caverns and beautiful spaces. I thought only small kids like them would be able to fit through some of the tunnels or be comfortable wading through the water, but in fact the majority of visitors to the caves were elderly women, who showed no fear and always wore wide smiles. One of the caves we visited, very deep into the earth, had a set of rock formations that sounded like a pin peat orchestra when struck. It was a remarkable sight to see how intertwined the religious sights were with the natural formations of the caves.

We then continued on to the city of Kampot itself. A former neighbor of my teacher when he was living in Kompong Sam province lived near the market in Kampot. She and her family of five welcomed us very graciously into her home. Although I've been in the country for a month and a half now, I still hadn't had a meal or slept in a traditional Khmer home or bathed in the traditional way, and as I am probably going to live with the family of the smoat master in Konpong Speu province in the coming weeks, it was good to have the chance to experience what it might be like. The family were staying had built their home next to a small garbage dump, in a squatter neighborhood inhabiting by many Vietnamese (Kampot is close to Vietnam). They did, however, have electricity and one pipe with running water. The family was one of the most welcoming I have ever known, and we were able to have some good conversations together.

Before returning to their house to sleep, we visited Kep, a small town by the ocean. Kep is situated at the edge of a very large bay ringed with islands and dramatic mountains, and the view from the town is spectacular, especially as the sun sets over the ocean. We went swimming the ocean, where the water is refreshing but not at all cold. And it was all strangely deserted, with very people near the waterfront or among the few houses in the town.

The next day we traveled to Mt. Bokor National Park, a beautiful forested region with clear, cool air and beautiful rivers. We came across a large family near one of the rivers and joined them for some swimming in the clear water flowing down from the mountain. Along the way, I had plenty of chances to meet the local people, including the abbot of a small mountain temple, and practice speaking with them, so although this weekend seemed like a vacation, I was glad to get some "studying" in. I definitely learned a good deal this weekend, both about the language and the culture, from having the opportunity to see a different region of the country, and I am excited to spend more time in the countryside in the future.

Translation

Translation has been something that I developed an interest in over the past several years, and if I continue with my current plan to study a form of funeral chanting, I will need to work on my Khmer reading and translating skills a lot more. So to practice this, I have been working on translating some of the writings of But Savong, a Khmer lay Buddhist teacher. My Khmer teacher introduced his work to me, and he uses very simple language, usually not specifically Buddhist, to express his wise approach to life. But Savong, well-regarded throughout Cambodia and the countries of the Khmer diaspora, is not a monk, but wears the white robes of an acar, owns no personal possesions, and spends all of time giving lectures on Buddhist teaching to people who request. The following is a translation of a talk of his from his book Words of the Parents. My knowledge of Khmer is pretty limited, so I'm sticking to a fairly literal translation so as not to obsure his meaning.

Translation of “The Virtue of Difficulties” (gun nei sechkdeylumbak)
Written by Teacher But Savong in Words of the Parents

Dear beloved child,

Your parents are just like all the other people, in that they should not give themselves difficulties nor give difficulties to their children. There are no parents who wish that their own children be desperately poor and saddled with difficulties, but even so, sometimes children encounter difficulties because their parents cannot make them happy in all ways.

Considering this point, you should always bear in mind that to have difficulties in life is not really bad at all. To have difficulties is not venomous, cruel or brutal, and nor should we see the suffering of these difficulties in just one way. If we look carefully into what we are studying, seeing the various components of goodness and the usefulness of having difficulties, we can practice accordingly and see how difficulties give us immense strength and resolve, the power to think clearly and the chance to be persons of importance, just as iron that passes through the furnace is made into a stronger and more useful material.

Our difficulties teach us to become adept at helping ourselves, because we sometimes have to struggle intensely in order to conquer them. There are not few among us who are able to react well to difficulties by holding to the idea of “difficult before, easy later,” which is to say that with patience and perseverance, we can tread between difficulty and ease and reach superior happiness and prosperity.

On the other hand, there are not few among us who have only known happiness since they were born, and who have never known and never met any difficulties. When they come across difficulties, they can barely help themselves. They attempt but cannot succeed, grab but cannot hold on, and whether their work is heavy or light, they do not know how to do it, and this continues until they can barely live and hover close to death. There are some who cannot withstand any difficulties, and thus they lose their life.

Therefore, please do not be afraid of difficulties and always bear in mind that our difficulties are our mentor. You should stand up on your own through your difficulties by cultivating patience and should use your difficulties to increase the virtue in your heart. You should use your difficulties as lessons for yourself, lessons which you should study so as not to return to the same difficulties again.

Pictures from the Tonle Bassac Community

Master Tep Mori's pin peat and dance class

Trying out a keyboard at the home of an instrument maker

Playing Khmer mahori music with instrument maker and younger relative

Master Ki Mum's yike opera class

Talking with Master Tep Mori

Back to Angkor Wat

Talking with a monk

Ryan enjoying the view

More pictures from Wat Atwear

Silapak Khmer Amatak (Cambodian Living Arts) students playing pin peat music for Pchum Ben at Wat Atwear, Siem Reap

Rice fields near Wat Atwear, Siem Reap

Back in Town

I've been a little busy and away from blogging for the past few days, but I am now back in Phnom Penh after a few days in Siem Reap with my high school friend Ryan. Ryan Kellett has been spending this semester on the falculty of Shantou University in Shantou, China, where his position is to produce and direct a musical in three months for the annual English festival. It has been amazing to hear some of stories of this 19-year-old teacher and his students in China, and I am glad that I will be able to hear more from him over the next five days that he is living with me in Phnom Penh. So, Ryan's permission, here are two links of Ryan's accounts of what we have done together for the past few days: A Flood of Flowers and Something in the Atmosphere

More pictures of Wat Ang Krapeu

The "lake" in the background is actually flooded farmland (rice fields). Many of the provinces surrounding Phnom Penh receive this kind of flooding during the monsoon season.

Rith with a crocodile that actually floats in high flood waters. Behind is the small temple where the gru boramey lives.

Wat Ang Krapeu

Today Rith, my language teacher, and I went visit Wat Ang Krapeu, a popular pagoda during the Buddhist holiday of Pchum Ben. Together with Rith's extended family and friends (about 15 people), we traveled for about hour outside of Phnom Penh to visit this wat, which in the rainy monsoon season is mostly surrounded by water stretching out to the distant hills. The name of Wat Ang Krapeu refers to the crocodiles (krapeu is Khmer for crocodile) that used to live in the area.



Pchum Ben is one of two major Buddhist festivals each year in Cambodia, the other being Khmer New Year. Pchum Ben, celebrated in different forms and with different names throughout Asia, is the official end of the three-month rainy season monastic retreat, a tradition begun by the Buddha himself 2500 years ago, during which monks are expected to study more intensely and follow a more strict discipline in their home wat. Pchum Ben, celebrated over a period of fifteen days, actually has little to do with the monastic retreat. The fifteen days begin with Autumn Moon Festival, which is more known as a Chinese holiday and even in Cambodia it is traditional to eat Chinese moon cakes.

During Pchum Ben, many Cambodian Buddhists believe that the spirits (hungry ghosts or hell-beings) of their ancestors, especially those who have accumulated negative karma, come out during the early morning hours, usually from 3:00 AM until sunrise. So at 3:00 AM all across Cambodia, the wats are filled with people. Most buy or have made for themselves plates of rice rolled into small balls, which are used to feed the ghosts and hell-beings which come out during the night. The believers, with candles in hand, then circumambulate (very slowly, because there are often lots and lots of people) the vihear (main temple building of the wat) while simultaneously throwing the rice balls towards the walls of the temple. In case you're wondering, this also happens to be a good deal of fun; in fact, I have rarely seen people having so much fun at 3:00 AM.

Pchum Ben is also much more than these early morning rituals. During the daytime, many more lay Buddhists go to the wats during the day to listen to Buddhist teachings, pray, or offer food to the monks. Because Pchum Ben is generally more about honoring one's ancestors than practicing Buddhism, the aim of all these activities is to transfer karmic merit to one's deceased relatives. Women tend to dress up in a traditional Khmer dress and white top when they visit the wat during Pchum Ben (as dressed up as they would be for a wedding or another formal occasion), which is interpreted as a gesture of respect. The wats themselves also have a great deal more decorations during this time.


Wat Ang Krapeu, like nearly all wats in Cambodia, was rebuilt after the Khmer Rouge destruction, so it is architectually in the same mould of most other wats. However, the large concrete elephant tusks shown above were new for me, and those who I talked to about them didn't seem to understand them either.



Another interesting element to the wat is the prescence of this small Chinese altar, unusually for a Khmer wat, in a small temple behind the main vihear. Although these pictures were all taken after most of the people left to go home, Wat Ang Krapeu was indeed very crowded today. Some of the people were making ritual minature sand mountains on the grounds of the wat, others were offering and preparing food for the sangha, while others were seeking the advice of a monk in the vihear. A festive, though respectful, atmosphere pervaded the wat, and the well-dressed lay believers, young and old alike, were engaging in just about the full range of Khmer religious activities.

Rith's family and I went to a small temple on the edge of wat to visit a tsun ji, the closest equilvalent of a nun in the Khmer tradition, who was also a medium (gru boramey). Mediums and trance states are outside the realm of Buddhism and are specifically prohibited in the vinaya, but their popularity in Cambodia is widespread. In short, a gru boramey is a medium for any number of spirits, usually those of kings or accomplised acsetics, who manifest in the gru boramey when he or she calls the spirit to enter their body. When the spirit in present in them, they manifest the characterestics, including the preferred language, of the spirit.

The tsun ji we visited, a relative of Rith's, is a gru boramey who manifests the spirit of Jayavarman VII, a famous Angkorian king. Rith's mother was looking for advice, so she sought out this medium to for help. After presenting the medium with some symbolic gifts, she (the medium) began to make incantations in Sanskrit to call the spirit to enter her body. After a period of more chanting and ritual, the spirit entered her (apparently) and her personality changed completely. She also began to speak in Thai, a language that the gru boramey doesn't know when the spirit is not inhabiting her body. Then Rith's mother, Rith, the spirit inhabiting the medium, and a monk the spirit was talking to (this monk we couldn't see or hear, but we could tell the spirit was talking to a monk), began to have a lively conversation. For the most part I could follow what was going on, as Rith would occasionally translate and clarify things for me, except when the spirit began to speak in Thai!

Gru boramey have a complex relationship with mainstream Theravada Buddhism, because although they are generally prohibited from practicing in wats, many still do and even some monks are known to be gru boramey. Gru boramey are also generally dedicated practioners of the Buddhist precepts and are supportive of the sangha, and nearly all of them give everything that people offer to them directly to the wat. Taking this into account, it is hard to say how they fit into the context of a wider Buddhist tradition, if they do at all, but it is safe to say that Cambodia is the only country where gru boramey and Theravada Buddhism co-exist to such a great extent.

After the spirit left the gru boramey, we were all able to have a nice conversation and lunch together in her small home. A while later, I was by chance able to meet some young orphans at the wat and hear them perform some pin peat music that they had been studying. I am continually amazed by these kinds of experiences that I am having in Cambodia, and while some of them are certainly more foriegn to me than others, I am very grateful for the chance to have them.