Author:

Inscribing the Kingdom’s contours

In 2006 Save Cambodia’s Wildlife (SCW) published the first edition of its Atlas of Cambodia. This book provided a snapshot of the key demographic, economic and environmental trends in the Kingdom, as they existed at the time. With nothing similar available the publication quickly became a mainstay of many professional libraries. But that was a long time ago and things have changed immeasurably in the Kingdom, which means a review has become increasingly important. Pleasingly and to their credit, SCW have responded to this challenge and published a vastly larger and improved version (price TBC) launching at Meta House this week. Their effort is our gain: the 2014 version goes well beyond a simple update and offers new insights into the developments and trends that characterise contemporary Cambodia.

There are some key changes. While the previous Atlas limited itself to a narrow range of topics, the new version covers many more subjects: travel from chapters devoted to ‘Forests’ and ‘Biodiversity’ through to ‘Gender’ and ‘Energy’. The portrait format has also gone, replaced by a landscape imprint. This better suits the geographic shape of the Kingdom when it comes to depicting it on a map, allowing a single drawing of the country to sit comfortably on an entire page.

This permits more information to be put onto the maps themselves. An example is the minute detail, almost to the district in some locations, given to certain measures including, at one point, pig, poultry and cattle ownership (OK, I can hear you say: ‘Wayne, why exactly is this important?’ Well, livestock ownership is often a good indicator of rural family wealth). Another key change is the provision of more descriptive detail, such as the background content on global and regional climate zones and the impact of climate change, which strengthens understanding of what the maps, graphs and statistics in the Climate chapter imply for the country.

A further plus is an increased effort to place national trends in a regional context. Returning to climate change and the vexing question of human impact, a map has been included that illustrates Cambodia’s climate vulnerability in comparison to that of its East Asian neighbours. It’s enlightening, with the shades of the map clearly showing that, alongside the Philippines, the Kingdom is the most climate-change vulnerable nation in the region.

One particular detail stands out for me: two Landsat images of Phnom Penh that serve as a powerful symbol for the change that has occurred in the nation since publication of the original Atlas. The first provides a satellite image of Phnom Penh in May 2003 and is compared to an image taken from the same angle in May 2013. The differences are striking.

In the most recent image Boeung Kak lake is gone, of course, but so too are some lesser known but – judging by their size in the 2003 image – even larger lakes on the northern outskirts of the city. These, like Boeung Kak itself, have historically acted as hydrological bulwarks against flooding, so the implications for the future dry (or will they be webbed?) feet of the capital’s citizens is worth considering (climate change vulnerability, anyone?). The sheer expansion of the urban buildings depicted in the 2013 image is fascinating if not unnerving: Phnom Penh today appears double the size it was in 2003. Looking at this one is left to wonder what Ms Penh, the legendary founder of the capital, would make of her creation today, a question that is as difficult to answer as one that ponders what Phnom Penh might look like in a further ten years.

Finally, in another constructive addition, a complimentary website will permit online access to the publication’s different map layers, even allowing users to work with the charts themselves and add new information layers. New and improved, the Atlas of Cambodia, available at Monument Books, is a must for anyone serious about working in the Kingdom or seeking to understand it further.

WHO: Save Cambodia’s Wildlife
WHAT: Atlas of Cambodia book launch
WHERE: Meta House, #37 Sothearos Blvd.
WHEN: 6pm January 31
WHY: Make sense of modern Cambodia

 

Penh-dacity: Bag man

Desmond, an accidental English-language expat, approximately Gen WTF, keeps himself afloat in Phnom Penh, day after day, week after week, without really knowing how. He drinks, he seeks companionship, he makes meagre attempts to engage with Cambodian culture that mostly amount to using motodops and giving directions in strangled Khmer. One otherwise unassuming weekend he gets drawn into the weird paranoid stench of the after-dark, hidden city and is almost forced to confront his limits, his demons, and his beer-drinking capacity. Cheer the good guys, boo the villains (if you can figure out which is which) in Penh-dacity: Bag Man, the fourth part of this exclusive fiction series by Guillermo Wheremount. 

Desmond, Phnom Penh expat of no fixed reputation, is engulfed in digital and brewed stimulation, wallowing in uncertain informal financial responsibility and considering a boat trip with a possible hook-up. He awaits the advice of a friend while watching a medical drama on DVD. Now read on.

This blood was definitely taken in the morning. Do you know why I can tell? The way the plasma curls around the nifting rod like milk in a properly made latte. You have much to learn, my young students.”

The reason Desmond was asking Belinda’s advice was that she was the first person he met when he arrived in Cambodia. He had arrived with great hopes, perhaps more personal than charitable, but with courage nonetheless. By some freak of nature he’d been hired to work for an NGO which, by a similar freak of nature, had ceased to exist while he was in transit in the airport in Riyadh wishing he’d not flown through Saudi Arabia and could have a beer.

“The question is, why should we take blood in the morning? Any ideas? You’d make extremely poor vampires. It’s a matter of the bromsk content.” 

Arriving in Phnom Penh without this knowledge, he had been swiftly brought up to speed by Belinda, who would have been his colleague. Instead she became his tour guide, chaperone, drinking partner, short-term financier and agony aunt.

“But honey, I won’t able to get away until early this evening, there’s a case that has just come in… I know. I miss you, too. Yes, and I miss that also. Yes, and that. I’ll text you later…”

Her message came, like a commercial break, at a critical point in the narrative of Dr Cranky, just when Desmond had started to follow the story. Apparently there had been a gas leak in the building when he was a baby… this could be important.

‘Belinda Theory 101: Fancied chances should be always followed, at least until 2am. After that nothing good happens. What money? Can you pay me back now?’

“Was it sulpuric nitrosate or nitrous sulphate? Think! There’s a very serious difference!” 

Dr Cranky’s frowning face faded into the background as Desmond replied.

‘Thx. Will provide extensive reporting if and when accomplished. The money is a custodial duty, but it may turn out to be an earner. Perhaps you could look after it for me this afternoon? The boat leaves at 5.’

The next reply seemed to take even longer than the first, but maybe it was the narrative. The disease that appeared to be diverting blood from the brain into the bile duct turned out to be a rare form of indigestion called Tungsten’s disease. Carl Tungsten was born in the poor section of Vienna in 1902, and was rescued from a fate worse than…

‘Gym at 3. Massage at 5. Cocktails at 7. Dinner at 9. After that it gets fuzzy. At least I hope it will. Does that help?’

“… will have to intubate with a number 7 fraxilator. Scalpel, please, nurse. No, not that one; the one with the corkscrew on the end.”  

‘Meet you at Pump at 4.45?’

“What’s going on? You’re operating on my son without my permission? Don’t you realise he’s got threadworm?” 

‘Sure. If I’m late you could leave it with Mr Rith, he’s pretty reliable.’

“If you hadn’t been spending all morning sexting with your not-very-secret lover, you’d have noticed from his chart that he had threadworm and was therefore unable to undergo surgery.” “You leave Clarinda out of this.” “Do you realise what could happen to this hospital if you…”

Then Belinda was back at him again: ‘This isn’t a Hank thing, is it?’

“Eureka! I’ve got to get back to the hospital. I just realised that if he’s got threadworm then the fruccipatory nerve will be inverted, leading to a reduced lymph count. It must be Fliscosity Syndrome!”

‘Sorta, yeah.’

‘He’s mad, you realise that, don’t you?’

‘Sorta, yeah.’

Continues next week  

 

 

 

Guilty pleasures

Usually I shun any event en plein air, especially those that involve sitting next to massive speaker stacks in someone’s yard wearing my only dress, a lot of make-up and grinning desperately at strangers. I’m dog’s balls and I know it. I’ve tried to fit in by hand-dancing round the fruit display but my face goes red. Cool, slim, pretty girls in spangly dresses don’t mean to be mean but make it worse: ‘Wow, your face is really red!’ If old people are invited there’s usually a lot of polite sitting on wood and my knees are fucked from spending too much time on them in the ’90s. Plus there’s duck-web salad.

But the weather has been so fat-friendly lately; even I’ve succumbed to the whispering lure of a breezy day out with remote family members in bucolic settings. The unseasonal cool has lulled me into a perspiration-free figment. I imagine twinned bluebirds fluttering past bearing trays of glacial mimosas. I’ll miraculously understand Khmer, or there’ll at least be smatterings of convivial backslappery in my mother tongue. With down-soft, tickless puppies gambolling at my feet and the scent of sun-warmed limes wafting past my marshmallow chaise, hope springs eternal that there’ll be something nice to eat.

One recent and delightfully temperate CharmingVille Sunday I put a cardigan over my pyjamas and accompanied husband to his fri’s place on Cow Island for a bev or two hundred thousand. I call it Cow Island. It’s not really an island, but you get there by ferry and there’s a bunch of cows there. There’s a couple of giant concrete prawns guarding a wat, and a charming lad with a monkey on his shoulder walking down the main drag. French or not, you should go there if you like riding a bike with a picnic in the front basket.

They’d put on a real spread and the knees-up was in full hammer by the time we arrived. There were no speakers, which augured well. The all-bloke party had assumed the position: cross-legged on the daybed under the house with t-shirts rolled to underboob and tube ice tonged into glasses after every second ‘cheers’.  In mid cavort, rosy cheeked and shiny, the fellows invited me to dig in.

The scales dropped from my eyes at once. There were portly rats – roasted inflatably plump with little stick legs at each corner. Actually they looked quite good. But, still, they were rats.

To be polite I put a tiny bit in my mouth. I don’t know which bit it was and I’ve had worse things in there (I think I alluded to this in an earlier paragraph). But nothing chases a rat better than a whole can of warm Klang. There was also a dark, goat-like chunk on a plate.

Me: “Darling, what kind of meat is that?”

Darling (carefully): “It’s an animal from the forest, but I’m not sure what it’s called in English.”

Giggling succubus sitting next to me: “Woof! Woof!”

Hysterical guffaws all round, except for husband, who could see where this might lead. His genius ruse in tatters thanks to the feckless pillock next to me, hubster watched keenly for signs of dummy spit. I do not chow down on puppies and I would never eat bushmeat. Would I up sticks for an early exit and the seething ferry standoff home? Just for once, could I ignore the little poppet’s whole roast head in a pot, his rictus underbite snarling defiantly up at me, pissed off but yapless? Perhaps it was the sniff of cowpat commingled with barbecue and jasmine that moved me to stay. Or my husband’s big, brown, pleading eyes. I made a cushion of my cardigan and poked at the mixed pickle salad. Dog is $3.75 a kilo at the market, in case you were wondering. Sokapeap l’or.

 

Tacos at sunrise, margaritas at noon

Of course ordering a frozen margarita at 12:03 on a Friday is perfectly acceptable when eating at a Mexican cocina (‘kitchen’). The menu read $4.50 and the small print said you got to keep the glass. Done deal. Those who aren’t into alcohol at that hour can opt for the squeaky clean horchato – a cinnamon rice milk concoction that is a family recipe from Jalisco in Mexico ($2.25). The restaurant is open from 11:00 to 23:00 and delivers, so you can order that taco for an early breakfast.

It took about half the margarita to wade through the massive menu. Starters, salads, fajitas, quesadillas, enchiladas, tacos, burrito, soups. Decisions, decisions. For those who want to eat north of the border there is the American dog ($4.50) or the Southwest burger ($6.50).

Overwhelmed by choice, I eventually settled on the ‘build your own burrito’ ($7.75) and the waitress appeared with a form and a pencil to tick boxes. All the extras – black beans, refried beans, lettuce, green peppers onions, potatoes and corn, cilantro and jalapenos – were ticked. Spice level? Ultra hot, of course; is there any other? John’s super-hot from the condiments stand almost meets my standard of inferno.

A basket of chips made from fresh corn – the base of Mexican cuisine – appeared. Nice for dipping and munching while waiting for the main event. The burrito arrived and it truly was massive, a hold-it-with-both-hands challenge. The lettuce on the side salad was a touch wilted, but the tomatoes were fresh.

Since Sunrise Taco is in BKK1 I expected the clientele to be expats and Western types. Wrong. It’s knife-and-fork-wielding Khmers rather than eating-with-the-hands purists. According to Ratana, who speaks impeccable English: “Mexican food seemed a bit strange at first, but it tastes good and now the local people like it.” Her recommendations? The classic chicken quesadilla ($6.75), the USA cowboy ($8.25) and the baja-style fish tacos (three for $8.50 or one for $3). According to the menu, the signature dish is home-made chips with Stephanie’s personal spin on guacamole ($4.75).

The decor is a mixture of peasant Mexican, Western touches and a Buddhist shrine. Done in pinkish-purple and yellow, it’s a touch disconcerting. I can’t figure out why. It just is. Ambience aside, Sunrise Tacos is into promos. Kids under seven eat free on Mondays. Chomp through all-you-can-eat specials ($8.75) from 14:00 to 19:00 on Tuesdays and Fridays. Birthdays, complete with ID for proof, are worth a free main and a dessert. The sweets come in at $2.75 for a slice of pie or $18.75 for the whole thing.

Meal over and bill paid, I sauntered out the door. Just as I was about to put the bright green plastic glass into the basket on my bike I was apprehended by the waitress. Apparently it’s only if you order the super-duper size that you get to keep the glass. *Huff*

Sunrise Tacos, #171 Street 63 (corner of Street 278); 077 854545.

 

Urban allure

Metro is the standard bearer of capital sophistication, and the eatery’s new two-storey outlet at the TK Avenue shopping plaza in Toul Kork firmly pushes the boroughs of urban style into the city suburbs. Open only a few weeks, the downstairs dining room buzzes during lunch and dinner. The atmosphere is similar to the original restaurant on Sisowath, the menu identical. Expect the favourites: grilled snapper on mash ($6.70), beef with red ants ($8.50), beef tenderloin béarnaise ($24). The interiors, too, echo the riverfront outlet. Plump leather cushions and heavy wooden chairs lend an old-money gravitas to the room, unfinished cement walls and stainless steel bar stools an unmistakable flourish of style. Toul Kork was long considered the capital’s dangerous outskirts. But no longer. As the capital grows, so does its tastes. And Metro Azura is about as refined as it gets.

Metro Azura, TK Avenue, Streets 315 and 516; 012 274060.

 

Smack my mix up

Among the tallest DJs on the planet, this rubber-limbed phenomenon graduated from a bottle of Mr Sheen and a piece of lino to become the most fleet-footed member of the world’s self-styled ‘scariest dance group’, The Prodigy. Ten years later, Leeroy Thornhill – all two metres of him – famously quit the band that had earned him millions for leaping around and pulling faces on stage, moved out of his Victorian windmill in the British countryside and returned from whence he came: behind the decks. Now en route to Code Red for his third appearance in Phnom Penh, Leeroy took a moment between mixes to talk Windy Miller, getting his groove on and whether life in The Prodigy was really as bat-shit crazy as we like to think.

You’ve said James Brown is your idol – and the inspiration behind your famous dance moves, which in turn influenced the Melbourne Shuffle. I’ve watched every ‘How To Dance Like Leeroy Thornhill’ tutorial on YouTube and have to keep calling friends to come untangle me. How the Hell do you do it?
When I was younger going out clubbing or house parties meant funk, and James Brown was the man. I was always into music that involved dancing. It still makes me laugh when people talk about the Melbourne Shuffle, etc. It’s a great compliment but having two arms and legs there are only certain things you can do with them. I think because I’m tall it made it look different, but I wasn’t doing anything that hasn’t been done before. I just used to get my groove on and took the moves I used in funk music and put them to the Prodigy sound.

You’ve been DJing for A Very Long Time Indeed. Take us back to when you were a teenager spinning early hip hop and electro, in your own words: “mixing before they actually mixed”.
I’ve been DJing 28 years now. I started when I was at school with a mate: he had some decks and we used to play house parties and the odd club, but it was mainly with rare groove and early hip hop, so beat mixing wasn’t really involved. It was about trying to just drop the tune in and out as smoothly as possible with a bit of scratching, spin backs, turning off the turntable to let the track slow down. I think that’s one thing a lot of new DJs miss: dynamics, letting a cool tune start from the beginning, instead of a two-hour mix that doesn’t stop or change tempo. It’s all about preference, but that’s what I like to do: take a set up and down.

And your sister was a punk! How much do we owe her for the epic electro-punk savagery that was The Prodigy’s signature sound?
Yeah my sister was into punk, but it didn’t influence the band. We all had cool musical backgrounds in regard to styles and we just evolved from pure dance music into dance music with other influences, ie: reggae, hip hop, rock. Again, it goes back to dynamics.

What are your best and brightest memories of your time with The Prodigy?
The whole Prodigy journey was amazing. We were four mates who just wanted to play at the rave parties we used to go to as punters. There were so many highlights, but I still buzz when I think about our gig in Red Square, Moscow, or the surprise gig we did with Oasis at Knebworth in the UK, and the first time we played at Glastonbury. Also getting to play gigs and meet your musical heroes, like David Bowie, U2. Amazing!

Is Keith as crazy as he looks, on a scale of one to completely bat-shit mental?
Keith is as cool as. When you’re on stage you have a licence to perform how you want and the adrenaline is the best drug in the world; you can release it in any way you want and that was always Keith’s way. Maxim as well. When they hit that stage it all comes out.

You’ve been variously described as the ‘hardcore Hellraiser’ and the ‘most normal guy’ in the history of The Prodigy’s line-up. Which is it? And if it’s the former, what’s the most hardcore Hell you ever raised? Just how crazy was life offstage?
I wouldn’t call myself a Hellraiser. We are all normal guys, really. Like I said, when the adrenaline’s flowing you just go with it. I was the most boring: being nearly two metres tall I’ve always stood out, so I never really had it in me to be extrovert. Because we all had different personalities it made the whole thing work. It’s like life: if everyone was the same it would be boring. Off stage, we are all pretty chilled.

This is perhaps my most favourite of all the things you’ve said on record to date: “If people honestly think that ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ is gonna make people go and beat up women, then we’ll just do a song saying ‘Deposit All Your Money In This PO Box Number’.” [Laughs]
It makes me laugh when people think that song lyrics make people do what you want. If it was that easy, you could ask for what you want. The bible says: ‘Thou shall not kill.’ That don’t work, either.

Since going solo as a DJ, you’ve remixed some impressive names: David Gray and Moby, both representing sounds most folk wouldn’t associate with what you’d done before.

I love all sorts of music and it was an honour to do those tracks, although now when I listen I know they could have been better. But my music will never be Prodigy music because that’s in Liam’s blood and he’s a genius.

How does it feel to have your own work remixed by one of the Great Masters himself: Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry, no less?
Lee scratch Perry is a legend and to have him remix for me was an honour. Yeah, I loved what he done: it’s out there, like the man himself. Also Mad Professor and working with Finley Quaye: all amazing artists.

You’ve said dance music in the UK has become ‘too commercial’ and that you prefer the energy of the crowds in places such as Asia and Russia.
There are still amazing parties and crowds in the UK, but the music business has changed because of the X Factor and shit like that. It’s so controlled: the main radio shows play the same shit over and over again. Unless you’re in a cool underground club, it’s like the dance music scene didn’t exist. I played there last year. I played two tracks and somebody came to request Elton John. I have no problem with him – he’s amazing – but some of the younger people have no idea what cool dance scenes came before. When I was young we were always looking back in time for cool music and fashion. I prefer playing outside of the UK. Asia can be hard, but I think it’s getting better every year.

The scene here is changing fast. What keeps you coming back?
It’s great: the people seem open minded about dance music and you can just get on with playing your sound, knowing the guy before or after is gonna be accepted in the same way even if they play a different style. Dance music is about all the styles, not just one sound.

Being locked in a studio with legendary US rapper Kurtis Blow last year must have been… why don’t you tell us?
We didn’t get in the studio with Kurtis, I just kept in contact over the phone discussing the tracks. The same with Melly Mel. These guys were part of my life growing up and to have vocals from them was awesome: they are old school and deliver old-school styles. You know what you’re going to get and it’s about making it work with our new sound.

This year you’ll be releasing the first Smash Hi-Fi album, preceded by the single Ready For This. What can our ears expect? 
It’s all very electronic based, but there are some cool vocal tracks, different tempos and flavours. It can be a bit boring to have an album of 10 DJ tracks; it’s meant to be cool to listen to as well. But we are DJs, so the DJ tracks are banging. We want to write music that people will listen to in the future and not sound too dated.

Your signature sound, Miami Bass, is – and I quote – ‘a mix of tuff electrobreaks, old skool samples, hip hop, rock and electro’. Who – and/or what – inspires you?
I think I’ve moved on from Miami Bass now. I did used to buy all my tunes in Miami, but that’s changed and the dance music has changed. There are so many different styles and tempos. That’s great because I like to play more than one style and tempo.

What was it like living in a windmill? Do you remember Windy Miller in Camberwick Green, when we were kids?
Yeah, man! My email address is Windy Miller. He was cool…

iPod: the last thing you listened to?
I have an original iPod that’s full of old music. A mate put his whole record collection on there before he sold the records. I swear every time I play it I hear music I’ve never heard before, but the last thing I played was Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here.

What do you do for downtime?
If I’m not spinning or in the studio, I like a good movie or watching football – that’s my thing, or good food and wine.

And finally, fantasy DJs: if you could play alongside anyone, who would it be?
I would love to see Liam DJ again. He’s awesome but doesn’t do it any more. The last time we spun together was in the early ’90s.

WHO: Leeroy Thornhill
WHAT: “A great mash-up of breaks ‘n’ electro-style toons”
WHERE: Code Red, opposite NagaWorld (near Koh Pich Bridge)
WHEN: 11pm January 31
WHY: He’s a fire-starter, twisted fire-starter…

Mr & Mrs Smiley

FRIDAY 31 | Music visionary Danny Rampling, former BBC Radio 1 and Kiss FM DJ, is perhaps best known as the man behind Shoom, one of the first acid house nights in late-’80s London. It was Rampling who took the smiley face logo and made it synonymous with dance music. Rampling, too, who bossed Radio 1’s Love Groove, becoming a global name after selling more than a million albums. He’s spun privately for George Michael, The Pet Shop Boys, Mick Hucknell, Gloria Estefan, Depeche Mode, Patrick Cox, Antonio Berardi and Boy George. And tonight, he – author of Everything You Need To Know About DJing & Success – takes the decks at Pontoon, alongside his American DJ wife Ilona, for your listening pleasure (tickets: $8).

WHO: Mr & Mrs Danny & Ilona Rampling
WHAT: Veteran DJs
WHERE: Pontoon Pulse, Street 172
WHEN: 9pm January 31
WHY: He made the smiley face famous

 

Sonic trip

FRIDAY 30 | British composer Brian Eno’s choice of the word ‘ambient’ to describe his music, from the Latin ambire (‘to surround’), was a deliberate one: his were soundscapes that could alter your state of mind; put you into a ‘higher state’ – the sort of existential altitude usually associated with psychedelics. Inspired by John Cage, who occasionally composed by throwing the I Ching, Eno had made possible Clockwork Orange; Pink Floyd; The Orb and Aphex Twin; down-tempo chill-out designed to ease a tripped-out mind. Emerging custodians of that sound here include DJ Nicomatic, James Speck (on the splendidly named Korg Kaosillator) and Tim King (guitar), who collectively – under the moniker Electronic Universe – are perhaps Phnom Penh’s first and only live ambient fusion outfit. Joined for their first all-improvised show by flautist Anton Isselhardt, gigs can involve everything from Tibetan bowls to a singing saw. Says King: “When we’re doing this, I feel like Nico is the mothership and we’re just little spaceships flying around him, interacting.”

WHO: DJ Nicomatic, James Speck (Korg Kaosillator) and Tim King (guitar)
WHAT: Live ambient fusion
WHERE: Meta House, #37 Sothearos Blvd.
WHEN: 9pm January 30
WHY: “Ambient Music is intended to induce calm and a space to think” – Brian Eno

 

A night at the opera

THURSDAY 30 | It may be some time before Phnom Penh is in a position to host an opera in its entirety, which would involve a cast of hundreds, but good news: jazz maestro Gabi Faja is hosting an appetiser of sorts along with very modern mezzo-soprano Ai Iwasaki (pictured). Having completed a postgraduate degree in Opera Musicology at her native Tokyo’s Shouwa University of Music in 2010, Ai moved to Italy under the tutelage of Master Lucetta Bicci. Now living in Phnom Penh, Ai cautions that opera isn’t for the faint of heart: “As a teenager in Japan I had always liked to sing, but then I went to an opera performance and was staggered by the power and intensity of this amazing thing. Opera isn’t just singing. It’s history, it’s psychology, it’s love. One of my favourite composers is Monteverdi, which means ‘Mount Green’: he belongs to an Italian school from three to four hundred years ago, when opera was barely developed. The music is so simple because it was early days, so the singing becomes the most important. Also they had gods who were all having sex with each other and killing each other. It was really full of drama – even more so then because of the shock value at the time.” And what of this appetiser? Says Gabi: “Because we can’t do a fully fledged opera, we take some of the most famous and the most beautiful arias and we do a melange, a collage of arias from different operas. It can be anything from Mozart to Puccini and beyond, so you get the best of the best in a nutshell. Opera can be done in a modern, popular way. You can do it in the streets; you can do Stomp and Puccini, there’s no stopping you!” [Bursts into jazz rendition of Un Bel Di from Madame Butterfly]

WHO: Ai Iwasaki (mezzo-soprano) and Gabi Faja (piano)
WHAT: A night at the opera
WHERE: Doors, Street 84 & 47
WHEN: 8:30pm January 30
WHY: Opera is the most misunderstood of art forms

 

My brother’s killer

TUESDAY 28 | Kerry Hamill was 27 when he wrote his last journal entry from his yacht Foxy Lady in August 1978. The eldest son of a tight-knit New Zealand family, he – along with fellow travellers Stuart Glass, a Canadian, and John Dewhirst from England – would within weeks join the handful of foreigners executed by the Khmer Rouge. At the time, few people outside Cambodia knew of the atrocities being committed within. Before Foxy Lady’s course was forever altered, Kerry had sent countless letters back home, regaling his family with breathless tales. Suddenly, the letters stopped. The silence was deafening. It would be a further 18 months before the Hamills finally discovered what awful fate had befallen their son. Thirty-one years later, on the same day Kerry’s yacht had first strayed into Cambodian waters, his younger brother Rob – an Olympic and Trans-Atlantic rowing champion – arrived in Phnom Penh to confront Kerry’s killers at the Khmer Rouge Tribunal. At the same time, he agreed to the filming of Brother Number One, an award-winning documentary by Annie Goldson, James Bellamy and Peter Gilbert that follows Rob as he retraces Kerry’s final steps. Along the way he visits Tuol Sleng, where his brother was tortured; meets three S-21 survivors, and penetrates a Khmer Rouge stronghold to find the Navy officer in charge when Kerry’s yacht was attacked. The resulting film is “the story of an innocent man brought to his knees and killed in the prime of his life, and the impact his death had on just one family”.

WHO: Rob Hamill
WHAT: Brother Number One screening
WHERE: Meta House, #37 Sothearos Blvd.
WHEN: 7pm January 28
WHY: The ghost of the Khmer Rouge confronted