Note: It is now late April, 2008, about a year after Sopheak related to me what follows. Not long ago I sat her down and asked her to tell me about her life "in tree" from the beginning.

In Tree - Part Two

One afternoon we were sitting in the shade behind the old house on our land. Sopheak had picked some long-stemmed daisies on our afternoon walk and was idly weaving them into a wreath. Several times before I'd watched her deftly make baskets, trinkets and other decorative objects from tufts of grass and flower stems. "How you do this?" I asked her in my best pidgin. "Who teach you this one?"

"No teach!" she replied, a little insulted, "only know! Before when stay in tree I make all time."

"You stay in tree?" I was bewildered. She had never used this expression before and I thought she literally meant that she had lived in a tree. She had, in fact, done just that, but what she meant this time was, "when I lived in the jungle."

"Tell me more!"

"When stay Virh Rinh have only moi mun (ten thousand) riel (about $2.50). I go. I go with friend Virh Rinh. Walk maybe 3 days stay in tree with Phnong 1 year maybe 2 year." I learned later that the "friend" she was referring to was actually a family (Sopheak often leaves out plurals) consisting of a wife, husband and their six children. As soon as they got beyond the roads and tracks and into the jungle the father threw away his clothes and fashioned himself a bark penis sheath. She remembers that vividly because it seemed so funny to her at the time. She said that they left in the middle of the night and that she left a note for her parents, so they wouldn't think she'd been stolen.

NOTE: I've come to believe that the story about leaving a note isn't true. Sopheak understandably likes to present her family in a favourable light. This isn't hard when it comes to Mama, but Papa continues to be "sometimes skoot (crazy), sometimes not scoot" and can get violent when he's drunk or distressed. She has since told me more of the story. When they got to Kmeng Wat they had a substantial amount of money. After only a day or so, Papa and Mama left Sopheak home alone while they went into Virh Rinh for supplies. A man came and gave Sopheak a little money to buy herself a treat with and promised to look after the house while she was away. When she got back he was gone and so was the family's money. When Papa and Mama got back, he was furious and gave the little girl a severe beating. That was the night she left. A friend told her about a Phnong family that was living at the edge of the jungle just past the plantation, so she went and stayed with them. When they moved on, she moved on with them. This is an unfolding story. One of these days it will be complete. In the meantime, back to my narrative - - -

"How old were you?"

"I don' know. Maybe 12. Only girl."

She had more than piqued my interest. I encouraged her to go on, but all she said was, "I no like speak. I no care I live or die then. I see tiger I see snake. I don' care."

That short statement only made me hungrier, but when she abruptly changed the subject I knew she was serious. For whatever reasons, her time "in tree" was not something she wanted to talk about. I let it drop, wondering if I would ever hear the whole story, wondering if it was even true.In subsequent conversations it became evident that she was closer to ten then twelve years old at the time and she remembered three rainy seasons and three dry seasons, or three years (Cambodians recognise only 2 seasons in a year: wet and dry). While they "only" walked for three days before settling, they never stayed in one place long. But thankfully that information came later. I was struggling already, trying to match the picture of the pretty, sophisticated Cambodian girl I knew with the one she was painting now. Had she told me then that over the course of those three years they walked all the way from Virh Rinh, only sixty-five kilometres from Cambodia's southern coast to Samong in the far north and back again I wouldn't have believed her.

I let it drop, but didn't forget it.

Then fate lent a hand. That night we were watching TV, some B grade action movie I think, in which a tiger played a bit part. When it made an unprovoked attack on one of the characters she became annoyed.

"People say tiger kill people but they no kill me. When stay in tree sometimes I sleep with tiger."

"Sure?" I asked, understandably doubtful. That sort of thing only happened in Tarzan movies - and then only to Tarzan or Jane.

"Yeah sure," she replied. "I no want sleep alone."

"But you said you sleep in tree." I was still interpreting "in tree" literally.

"Sometimes in tree, sometimes no." OK. "In tree" didn't mean precisely, "in tree."

"Did you have ptia (house) in tree?"

"No have house, only these ones for sleeping," she replied, pointing to a rice bag we used for rubbish.

What Sopheak was telling me contradicted what little I "knew" from my reading about Phnong. I had read that they were a distinct ethnic hilltribe that lived in squat thatch huts in Ratanakiri and Mondulkiri Provinces in northeastern Cambodia near the Vietnam border. I questioned her about this.

Yes, t here had been a house, but she was not allowed to sleep in it. And when an elephant destroyed it her adopted family decided it was time to move on. She was a little contemptuous of the assertion that Phnong "only" lived in NE Cambodia. "Phnong stay Virh Rinh, stay Phnom Penh, stay all," was her reply. I was content with that, even a little proud that I now Knew something many ethnologists did not. Later I would learn much much more about the Phnong, but that was later. Something else she'd said had now captured my imagination and led to another stupid question:

"There were wild elephants where you lived?"

"Yeah sure. Too many," she replied, "too many" meaning "lots" and not "more than enough."

"You no kill?" I asked, wondering why they hadn't engaged in a turf war with the invading elephant.

"No kill!" she replied, appalled. "Them come, we go. This one home for them" ("this one" being the land, not the house). Then I learned that not only did the territorial elephants destroy homes, if the home's inhabitants were unlucky enough to take shelter in the wrong tree, the elephant would pull down the tree and kill the hapless interlopers. Sopheak went on to tell me how elephants went about doing this and why it was wise to choose a stout tree when elephants were the danger and a small, narrow-trunked tree when the danger came from tigers. The following is verbatim from my diary:

"When have elephant live in big tree. Cannot break. When have tiger live in small. Cannot climb.

"Elephant always have water stay inside," she explained. "When want break tree him make come outside this one ( its trunk). Then him go like this," she went on, stamping her feet, "all round tree. Then him pull down with this one." She pointed to her nose and the picture was complete. First the elephant would moisten the soil around a tree by expelling water from its trunk. Then it would stomp around the tree's perimeter to break up the roots. And finally it would pull the tree down and kill its unwelcome intruder.

I'd been told in grade school that elephants were smart. Sopheak knew firsthand just how smart they were.

"Didn't you say before that tigers didn't kill people?" Apparently they made exceptions.

"Have food, no kill. No have food, kill." Her tone suggested that it was a self-evident truth.

Sopheak was really opening up about her life in the jungle now. Without prompting she told me more. She told me about swimming amongst crocodiles without fear: "They no kill people," she insisted, "tiger no kill people. Only dogs kill people. Sometimes dogs come. Cannot leave tree two, three days. When dogs go, can leave tree." Throughout our conversations she was adamantly defensive of what we consider to be "wild animals." On another occasion she told me that only those who were afraid of the animals got killed by them. "When I see tiger or snake I say 'soos dai' (hello) to them and they not hurt me."

Note: We recently (April 2008) went to the zoo in Kampot. I was expecting the worst, but the animals were some of the liveliest and healthiest I've ever seen in a zoo. Anyway, it was a great opportunity to learn more about the animals Sopheak came across in the jungles and uninhabited (by people) plains of western Cambodia. One of the most startling revelations for me was when we came to an enclosure that housed a female lion "This one big dog stay in tree!" she exclaimed. "This one dog make you stay inside (as in 'inside a house' ) tree long time?" I asked in reference to the above. "Yes, this one." She was a little confused when I told her it was a female lion (the male was confined to the adjoining enclosure and she knew he was a lion), but accepted it as fact. It amazed me because until then I hadn't believed there were lions in Cambodia. I'd assumed that she had seen lions on television and then imagined she'd seen them "in tree." The other "dog" that lived in the jungle and that she feared so much she wouldn't even let me take a photograph of it, was the "small dog" that turned out to be a jackal. Back to narrative

She seemd to contradict this viewpoint somewhat in subsequent conversations, like the following (again from my diary):

"One time man Vietnam come stay. Him police but not police. Don' know English this one. Cambodia speak 'dtee-a-hee-un '." I looked it up in my wonderful phonetic dictionary. As I guessed, the word meant 'soldier.'

"Pol Pot kill him but not kill (meaning: wounded him). Him want die because him kill so many Cambodia, but not die. Later cow but not cow - with big big this ones (makes horns with fingers) - kill him. I don' know why: I look but no care. Him kill with this one (makes horns again) here (points to stomach). But no eat all. Eat only insides."

"You saw that?"

"Yeah sure. Later I make hole and put him inside. Him good man."

That was a surprising assessment of character given that many Cambodians, including Sopheak and her family have varying degrees of dislike for the Vietnamese (and vice versa) ranging from distrust to hatred. While we Westerners give Vietnam credit for liberating Cambodia from Pol Pot, many Cambodians view them as invaders who killed Khmer regularly and indiscriminately, whether they were Pol Pot's Khmer Rouge (Red Cambodians) or ordinary people caught in a civil war they never wanted to be a part of.

Her recollection of this event sparked another memory. As is her way, she doesn't remember events in sequential order. This could have occurred long before or long after the story she had just related. One dry season her group ran out of water. They were living in the jungle not far from a Vietnamese outpost. This had to have been around 1991 or 2, after the Vietnamese occupation, but knowing now what I know about Cambodia's history, it doesn't surprise me that the Vietnamese would keep soldiers here and there in remote locations "just in case." Or perhaps these soldiers had never been informed that the occupation had ended. At any rate, they were there - only a few of them, but they were armed, so her group gave them a wide berth. But they also knew that the soldiers had water. In desperation, a young man with a wife and child's welfare to think of besides his own took his family to the edge of the jungle and walked into the clearing alone to beg for water. Before he even got close enough to speak to them they shot him dead. In conclusion she said, "even now I see Vietnam soldier I want kill and eat."

And yet - contradiction after contradiction - she then told me that she too went to the edge of the jungle sometime later to beg these same soldiers for water. She stood there a long time, understandably in fear for her life. " I think if I go maybe I die, maybe not die, but if no go then I die for sure." So she stepped into the clearing. In her case, the soldiers took pity on the small girl and gave her not only water but some rice from their stores and she was grateful for it.

After telling me this she told me another animal story, this one as grizzly (to my ears) as the previous one. But again, while she could hold a lifetime grudge against a human, animals were never at fault for what they did, however terrible. .

There were six children, seven including Sopheak, in her family. Five of the children died over the course of time. I don't know how the other four lost their lives ( Note: I've learned that one died while they were slowly making their way through a thicket of cacti, presumably of thirst, but I'm not sure. It was slow going as each cactus had to be broken at its base and carefully laid aside. By slow, I mean a matter of days) , but one small boy was killed by an elephant.

"Why him do that?" I asked, shocked. I was feeling ;warm and fuzzy' about the wildlife in Sopheak's jungle world. An elephant killing a child wasn't part of my acceptable scenario.

"Him only play, but elephant think him want kill."

"What did his Mama and Papa do?" I imagined a grief-stricken killing frenzy.

"Them make hole, put inside. No cry. Sad two three days."

I had noticed this lack of sentiment on several previous occasions. The first time we went to Svay Rinh, Papa got an urgent call from Virh Rinh. A brother, one of only three out of eight still alive, had died suddenly after a brief illness. The family gathered together to talk about it. Should Papa make the trip back to Virh Rinh and attend the funeral? He walked out into the dry rice paddies - it was the first time I'd ever seen him go anywhere alone - and squatted down for a long time. When he came back, it was over. Instead of going to his brother's funeral, he enjoyed the festivities in Svay Rinh. I held that against him at the time, but I've learne.d a lot since then.

On another occasion, Sopheak and I were at the beach when one of the stallholders, a friend of hers, asked us if we could help a young man she was giving shelter to. He had been bitten by not one, but two snakes. We went to have a look. One leg was twice the size of the other and almost black and he had huge black circles under his eyes. He was no longer interested in seeing a doctor - just wanted to stay where he was until it felt like it was nearly time for him to die. Then he wanted to swim out to sea and die quietly, alone.

Sopheak felt compelled to try to do something for him, though, so we spent the next couple of hours going from doctor to doctor, looking for anti-venom. The only doctor in town who had any (he worked for her old employer at the Snake House) was in Thailand. And besides, judging from our description, the young man was going to die anyway. I briefly considered sending for an ambulance, but why? Then he would just die miserably in a hospital and not be granted his final wish. Sopheak, convinced we'd done all we could, just decided that Buddha had decided it was his time to go. He had been bitten on the grounds of a nearby wat when he went out in the night to pee. That made it doubly Buddha's decision. End of story. No histrionics about how "we did all we could to save him" or "what a tragedy" - it was just over. We went home and ate dinner.

If that sounds cold, it's not. It's just accepting fate. And besides, whatever dies will be reborn. That is not just a spoon-fed "religious belief" amongst Cambodians. It is as much a fact as Newtonian physics is a "fact" to any educated Westerner. Newtonian physics is something we are taught in school that we accept as "true" both because it fits with our personal observations and because it comes from "experts [scientists]." So too with Cambodian Buddhists. They not only believe what their "experts [priests]" tell them. Their personal experience provides them corroborating evidence. Sopheak, for instance, remembers her past life, talks regularly with ghosts and spirits and has even had the occasional conversation with Buddha (see Into the Mystic). When I told her that many barang believed that we had only one life and then just magically disappeared from existence, she thought it was the most absurd notion she'd ever heard. And when some Christians told her about the "miracle" of Jesus' death and resurrection, she thought it was a ridiculous reason to worship him. Wasn't everyone reborn after they died? Then they blew it completely when they tried to convince her that Buddha was "bad." Consequently, although she's on cordial terms with our Christian next-door neighbour, she doesn't think too highly of her religion.

I said above that there "were always justifiable reasons why animals killed. That doesn't mean that she liked all animals, or that she was ready to offer herself up as a meal. Besides giving me instruction on how to escape an angry elephant or hungry tiger, she told me that it was unwise to climb a tree to escape an attacking wild boar, because it will simply wait for you to come down, whether that be a day or a week later, when hunger and thirst force you out of the tree. The best way to escape a boar is to jump in the water, if there is a water source nearby. Then they can't smell you anymore and go elsewhere in search of food. Oh, and if there's not a stout tree around, your best chance of escaping an elephant is by zigzagging. They can outrun anyone in a straight line, but aren't very good at changing direction quickly.

There are "too many" more animal stories and hopefully I won't forget to find a place for them later. But this seems like a good time for a break. Click here to venture further "In Tree."