Surrealistic Pillow

Sometime shortly after Sopheak and I moved out of the guesthouse and into the small house on our property she received a phone call from Phnom Penh. Her cousin Sokha was in trouble. Sokha's mother and father had both died when she was only four and since then she had been cared for by a succession of relatives. An uncle in Phnom Penh had most recently taken her on but when he remarried his new wife decided there wasn't room enough in their small home for her anymore. One possible "solution" was, if no one wanted her, Sokha, now 15, could be sold to a brothel. What could I say? We took a bus to PP and picked up her and her small bag of belongings and brought her home to live with us.

Sokha is a sweet girl. She's a willing helper and always returns a smile with a smile. On good days she's just one of the girls, sitting around with the others and gossiping (I assume. I don't understand a word they say) while they do their chores. On other days she's silent and withdrawn. She still does her jobs, but does them silently, in a world of her own. No one bothers her on those days. They all know she's lived a very troubled life.

One day in April, in the middle of the week-long Khmer New Year celebrations, not long after our fateful trip to Shray Rinh (see Mr. Toad's Wild Ride), Sokha "complained," if that's the word, of having a headache. "OK?" I asked, seeing the pained expression on her usually placid face. "Choo kabal" she replied with an apologetic smile, as if she was doing something wrong. In my infinite Western wisdom I gave her a Panadol.

A little later she went up to the loft to sleep. A short time after that Sopheak's brother Ra went up to fetch something and found her lying on her back staring at the ceiling. But she wasn't staring at anything. There was nobody home. Her body was lying there, head propped up on a dirty silk cushion, it was breathing, but Sokha was gone. Ra called everyone up to have a look and to try to bring her back. Words like "catatonia" and "catalepsy" ran through my mind, though I couldn't remember which was which. I thought about zombies and wondered if some of the New Age voodoo I've learned over the years would be of any help. But especially I thought about my sister, who at the age of 19 was sent home from college in exactly the same shape. Diagnosed with schizophrenia, she spent her life one of the unhappiest people I've ever know.

I flicked my fingers in front of her eyes. Not so much as a blink in response. Her hands and feet were cold. "She go inside," I offered as my diagnosis. "She have too many problems," Sopheak explained knowingly, "her spirit leave." Sounded like as good an explanation as any. Half and hour, give or take, passed by with various failed attempts to revive her. I was just beginning to wonder if this was going to be a permanent condition and if so what were we going to do about it when she closed her eyes. At last! I thought with relief as I watched her eyes twitch and roll beneath their lids: REM, Rapid Eye Movement. She's dreaming.

"She's dreaming," I said softly. The others nodded. It was obvious to them as well. I was not privy to special knowledge, just a little fancy Western terminology.

A few minutes later she opened her eyes and sat up. Sokha was back! Groggy, but she was with us. She said a few words that I didn't understand, changed her position and lay back down, facing east for what that's worth. "Her mama wants to visit," I was told. Not comprehending, I assumed they were saying she had been dreaming about her mother and wanted to go back and dream about her again. But not long after she opened her eyes, sat up and began to speak and I realized there wasn't a problem in translation: Sokha's mother was paying us a visit.

When I tell you her demeanour changed completely, just believe me. You had to be there. Yes, it was the same teenage face, but the person in front of me was not Sokha. She was older, worldly-wise, with the confidence of a woman who has seen and endured enough that she doesn't care anymore whether her words or actions are approved of or not. The face was Sokha's but the personality that expressed itself through her simply was not the shy and retiring teenage girl I knew.

"She's back," I offered despite the evidence to the contrary. "This not Sokha. This mama for Sokha," Sopheak corrected me. As I watched her speak to the others with confident authority, I knew that Sopheak's words made more sense than mine. Then I caught her eye. She looked at me quizzically, the way some older Khmer had in the country, where Western faces are rare. She pointed at me and said, "Scoot" (crazy). I was neither insulted nor troubled by the statement. Most Cambodians think Westerners are crazy and when I see us through their eyes I can see why. I smiled in return. "Scoot," she repeated, this time with a smile in return. "Her no see barang (foreigner) before," Sopheak offered apologetically.

Some more words were exchanged and then the woman offered each of us in turn the traditional palms-together gesture that represents both hello and goodbye. Then she lay back down on the small silk pillow and closed her eyes. Mama's short visit had come to a close.

Thinking the strange crisis had ended, I went downstairs for a smoke. I hadn't finished my cigarette when I was summoned again. Sokha was awake again. No, let me be more precise. Sokha's body was consciously inhabited again, but not by Sokha. This time it was inhabited by a bright-eyed baby. By the time I got to the loft she was sitting up close to Sopheak pulling at her shiny gold jewelry, a look of absolute delight and fascination on her glowing face as she giggled like a baby.

And that, it turned out, is what she was. When Sokha's mother died she left a seven-month-old baby girl behind as well as the then four-year old Sokha. The baby died three months later. Still breast-feeding when her mother died, the baby endured her final months without the comfort of mother's milk and she told our assemblage she was starving for milk. Rah went straight downstairs and poured her a full glass of milk which she drank down greedily in one gulp. It's worth noting here that I've never seen a Khmer drink milk and that I've never seen Sokha drink milk since.

Sokha's baby sister then said her goodbyes and Sokha's body laid down again. When she got up a few moments later, Sokha was back. She had been visiting her mother while her sister was in her body and her mother had told her to go back to the wat in Shray Rinh for a water blessing. So the next day, accompanied by Sopheak's oldest brother Rote, she did just that. When she returned, she was fine - for awhile.

It's no wonder Khmer have their "superstitions" and almost universally consult cards, astrologers and oracles of all kinds for direction. We barang like to write all this off as "primitive beliefs" but we don't have a clue. I've seen Sokha recover from what any Western psychiatrist would diagnose as "schizophrenia" (a word any honest shrink would admit covers a multitude of symptoms) while I've never met a truly recovered Western schizophrenic. Our minds are fixed on the crazy idea that the Newtonian physical world is the "real" world. Alternative perceptions are aberrations to be analyzed, rationalized into something our limited perspective can grasp and, if possible, eliminated. It's a worldview I understand, having been there myself. But I've been forced by personal experience to accept the fact that we're babes in the spiritual woods. Indeed, Khmer don't consider ghosts, spirits or other non-material beings to be "spiritual" in the way we do. They are a part of ordinary reality. Being physically incarnate, their understanding is limited and so some of their methods of dealing with them are less-than-perfect. While our science quite happily calls its failures "emperiments" that same science self-righteously dismisses the trial-and-error methods of shamans and priests as "superstitious nonsense."

And so Sopheak's recovery was not complete. It was to be expected, because her spirit was so "small" that she continued (and may continue) to be subject to possession. She was fine for a couple of weeks. Then one morning she had another headache and became pensive and withdrawn as she had before. I saw her sitting and staring at a photograph I'd taken of her. I noticed the symptoms, but failed to become alarmed enough to tell Sopheak or Mal when they came home from the market. By the time they returned, Sokha had been upstairs for about an hour and they found her as she had been before, lying on her back staring blankly into space. Next to her was the photograph of herself and she'd written something on the back of it. Sopheak read it while Mama, Mal, Rah and (other sister-in-law) worked on reviving Sokha. This time it took only a few minutes and this is where things get complicated. She "woke up" and everyone believed it was Sokha, but as it turned out, it wasn't. It was Sokha's oldest sister.

The note on the back of the photograph was worrying. She had written that she was not destined to live in her current body much longer and wished to be reborn as Sopheak's and my next baby. That brought tears to my eyes and I told Sopheak to tell her she could be our baby in this lifetime, but she already had. Nonetheless, everyone feared that Sokha might simply lose the will to live and die (violent suicide would be unnecessary - she would simply die), so they called in a priest from Wat Leu.

I didn't know they'd called a priest and thinking everything was OK, I left. When I returned, the priest had come and gone. But that's alright. Without Sopheak I doubt I'd have followed what transpired anyway. In Sopheak's words, "Her want kill Buddha. Her change. I see black black and her have this ones (pointed to teeth) like monster we see inside tv (a vampire)." The "monster" was Sokha's jealous sister. Sokha remembered her oldest sister, but was unaware she had died. But she had, and she was furious. Not only had Sokha been their mother's favorite, Sokha had gone on living and found a loving home while she had died. Determined to "set things right" and enjoy life again, she had inhabited her body, written the heart-rending note and acted like the sweet and gentle Sokha we knew. But the priest had found her out.

He was able to make the sister leave Sokha's body, but for how long he wasn't sure. He told everyone to watch her and if there was another episode to bring her to the wat for an exorcism. That would drive her sister away for good. Sokha had no recollection of what she had written but agreed with the sentiments when she read it. We meant what we said and she has since moved in with us. There hasn't been another "episode" and she's a joy to live with. So now I have four "babies" - Justin and Chloe in Australia, our unborn baby girl Luna and Sokha. Sometimes five, when Sopheak is behaving like a spoiled six-year-old.

16 May

It's been about 3 weeks since the last episode, but yesterday afternoon Sokha's sister returned with a vengeance. Sokha had been in a good mood all day. For the first time she wore a pair of jeans and a yellow polo shirt "I" bought for her some time ago. All day she showed them off proudly: "Saat" she would say as she ulled on the top. We were watching tv and Sokha was sitting outside the window playing cards alone - whether fortune telling or not I don't know. At any rate, we stopped the movie (Bordertown) for a cigarette break and when we went into the other room Sopheak noticed that Sokha was staring into space. Sopheak slapped her gently and yelled at her to bring her back. When she didn't, Sopheak called out for Rah, who was working outside. At that point Sokha jumped up and grabbed a knife that was sitting nearby. She stood on the daybed and brandished it with both hands menacingly. Her brows were furrowed, her eyes bright with anger and while I couldn't understand her words, the tone of her voice told it all. Later I was told what I already understood: she wanted to kill Sopheak and Rha and she hated her little sister who had found a happy home in this world.

I wasn't exactly being brave when I stood protectively between Sopheak and Sokha. It was so surreal I couldn't believe it was happening. Rha stood directly in front of her, trying to talk her into dropping the knife. He looked like he knew exactly what he was doing - completely without fear or aggression. I learned the meaning of "quick as a flash" and "moved like lightning" when Sokha suddenly threw the knife at Rha. It bounced off his chest harmlessly but I swear, before it clattered to the floor he had jumped onto the daybed, grabbed her by her wrists and gently but forcibly pinned her to the bed. Then he called out loudly to Long, one of our workers (and a neighbour) who dropped what he was doing and rushed down to help. Sokha, or her sister, was enraged now and became very strong and it took both of them to subdue her. At first I thought Rha had called Long just to help, but he immediately took control and started barking orders to Sokha as he painfully twisted her toes. Someone rushed into the kitchen at his command and came back with what looked like pepper corns. He took a few in his fingers and rubbed them into the soft soles of her feet. Meanwhile, Rah was having trouble controlling her arms - and Rah is very strong.

After maybe 5 or 10 minutes they had subdued her enough for Long to be able to speak with her. A container of water, some perfume and incense had arrived and a baske of offerings including cigarettes an money were placed on the bed. Long sprayed some perfume into the water and stirred it with the stick end of the burning incense as he muttered some prayers or incantations. Then he sprinkled water on Sokha and took some into his mouth and spat it onto her. Rah in the meantime re-fastened the protective string the Buddhist priests had given to her around Sokha's waist. Sokha wasn't back, but her sister was now under control and she began to tell her story.

We all knew she had died, but that was all. Apparently she had died at the age of 13, raped and her throat cut by a young Buddhist monk and another man. She had been trying to inhabit Sokha's body off and on ever since. A young man in Shray Rinh had been trying unsuccessfully to seduce Sokha. On two occasions Sokha's sister managed to take over her body and let him have her. This was one way of humiliating her. Now she just wanted to kill her. She told Long she had taken 50 pills to accomplish this.

No one knew what pills she had taken, but everything changed in an instant. Rah and Long carried her outside and drove off on my motorbike while another neighbour, a kickboxer (they had been joking with him that Sokha's sister could have beat him in a fight) fetched his moto and Sopheak and I climbed on the back. We all tore off down the road to the hospital. Poor Sopheak was crying hysterically, terrified that Sokha was going to die. I'd already figured out that she had eaten half a bottle of folic acid and about a dozen gingko biloba, the closest things to drugs we have in the house. I assured her that they were harmless, though I didn't know whether this was true or not.

At any rate, Sokha's stomach was pumped and she was put on a drip. Then we brought her home and the doctor followed and gave her an injection, maybe a sedative and put her on another drip. Long did another ritual and got the sister to leave the body, promising her a gift of clothes and food the next day at noon if she would go away until then.

She didn't keep up her end of the bargain and came back this morning. She apparently also came to both Sopheak and Long's wife last night in dreams and threatened them with a knife, but they were both protected. Sopheak and I were visiting friends up on the hill when Rha called and summoned us home. We found Sokha upstairs surrounded by candles. Long was doing anothert ritual. That seemed to work and later Sokha came downstairs without her sister. She still had issues with the boy in Svay Rinh who she thought had hired a jian (sorcerer) to cast a spell on her and draw her back to Svay Rinh. The best cure for this was for me to buy her a necklace with a jade Buddha. Long would bless it and she would be protected from the spell.

15 August

Sokha has gone to live in Svay Rinh. Those strange occurrences are barely a memory, but I've left out the final chapter. It must have been a few weeks after the last entry when I was sitting in the old living room and noticed that Sokha looked spaced out. Afraid she might be on the verge of another possession, I asked her to make me a cup of coffee. Her typical cheerful smile was missing, but she dutifully got up and went out to do as I asked.

Proud of my achievement (keeping her in this world), I accepted the coffee from her with thanks. She returned to the kitchen while I waited for my coffee to cool. After a few minutes I took a sip and immediately spat it out. She had stirred salt instead of sugar into my coffee!

Thinking it was either a joke or a mistake, I called out to her. "Sokha! Cafe mien umbal!" (coffee has salt!). Hearing no response - neither laughter nor an apology - I got up and went into the kitchen. As soon as I entered the room she snatched up a knife and brandished it menacingly, a wicked snarl of a smile on her face. I called out to Sopheak, but decided to take matters into my own hands and talk to her rationally. What a joke.

"Sokha," I said in my kindest, most compassionate voice, "you don't want to kill me. Give me the knife." I must've seen a scene like that on tv or at the movies. Maybe I went to the toilet in the part where the deranged killer lunged at the well-meaning shrink. At any rate, that's what she did, but only to keep me away. When I backed off, so did she, but she kept her cold shining eyes fixed on me and her haughty grin, so un-Sokha-like, remained. While she stared, she took the chain of the Buddha necklace I bought Sokha last time and tried to pull it off. Interestingly, she was unable to do so, though it is just a thin gold chain. As she tugged on it, her face contorted with anger and frustration, but she was simply unable to break the chain

"Sopheak!" I called out before continuing my ridiculous monologue. Luckily Sopheak came quickly and as soon as she saw us she ran outside for her brother Rah, who came in on her heels. Not as subtle as I, Rah stepped between us and immediately grabbed Sokha's forearm and twisted it violently. Before the knife clattered to the ground, Sokha (or more correctly, her sister) managed to give him a slight cut on the top of his wrist. Then the wrestling began and I saw first-hand just who I had been trying to reason with: it was the deranged from my script. They were outside before Rah managed to trip Sokha and pin her to the ground. Soon after that, Long appeared from next door. While the two of them subdued her, Sopheak berated me.

"Why you stay here? Why you speak her? You scoot? (crazy)."

"Not scoot! I want to help Sokha. Sokha scoot."

"This not Sokha! This sister for Sokha. She no listen you. She want kill you. No do this again!"

I'd have like a compliment for my bravery, at least. But I suppose my stupidity really was the real issue. I should have known by now that when Sokha was possessed, there was no Sokha there to reason with.

This time, apparently, Long killed Sokha's sister. "Him kill her one more time. Now she cannot come back," Sopheak told me.

Sokha has had some major challenges since that day, but neither her evil sister nor any other spirit has possessed her, unless you count Sopheak's younger sister Ana, who got her drunk at our house-warming party and talked her into stealing some of the money given as gifts to fund their escape to Svay Rinh. When the money ran out, of course they came slinking back, Sokha genuinely contrite, Ana just scared. Sadly, the family decided that she and Ana should no longer live here. Sokha has returned again to Svay Rinh, but may return next Cambodian Christmas.

Long (that's him in the black t-shirt), who did so much for Sokha (and by extension, us), has now fallen out of favour. Apparently he decided that he deserved to live here more than Sopheak's Papa did. I'll never know the truth, but according to one of the workers, who told me this through an interpreter at a neighbour's housewarming party, Long was angry with Papa because he had ruined some of his tile work. Had ruined it on purpose, to turn me against Long, whom I obviously liked and respected, unlike Papa, who I obviously didn't like. I was already angry with Papa for a number of reasons, so I was more than ready to believe him, especially since he told me when he was drunk and because he (the worker) had nothing to gain personally from telling me. But according to Sopheak, Papa had not done what he had been accused of doing. Long had deliberately sabotaged his own tile work in the hope that I would kick Papa out of the house and invite him and his wife to live with us instead. Now that I'm no longer angry with Papa, and because I've seen the results of some of Long's shoddy tile work, I'm inclined to believe Sopheak. Bizarre as Long's plot was, it had crossed my mind to do exactly as he hoped I would do. It has also crossed my mind that as skilled as Long was at exorcism, he may also be skilled at black magic. All I know for sure is that now I can't believe that Papa would do such a thing. He's neither bright enough nor nasty enough to do so. He may be "sometimes scoot, sometimes not scoot," but he's not conniving. But then again, in Cambodia, you never know what's real or true and what's not.