Category: The Rockefeller Report

Maybe it’s the colder weather, or simply an attempt at making a statement against Brown Coffee’s rapid expansion. Whatever the reason, Rockefeller Without Borders has been riveted by the rise in fake coffee in the Kingdom. News reports shouted “toxic brew” when a recent batch of java junksters was caught trying to percolate their counterfeit concoctions. The Ministry of Interior’s anti-economic crime department said experts (i.e. people who never put milk or sugar in their coffee) traced the suspicious mix to – where else, of course? – a handicraft factory.

The first question we had to ask was: What actually is fake coffee? Is it like buying a copy Rolex on the street only to take it home and have it not work on you? It seemed like a good idea at the time. You pictured yourself making a grand social statement with that watch. But the caffeine-like jolt of “I might actually be wealthy” never happened. Yes, to be fair, the fake Rolex effort was probably a lot better (and safer) than buying that fake tycoon ring you pondered. Glittering gold, diamonds, polished rubies and jade must shout “real” or there is no point putting it on. That’s why they’re called tycoon rings: you can’t fake tycoon. Tycoons can sniff wannabes out in a second. When you possess that real ring you’ve got hands confidently on table, middle finger flashing, “You see this?!” Ever tried to put a fake cup of coffee on the table? What happens? Yeah, I don’t know either, but I keep thinking an Aladdin’s lamp inspired scene. Clooney appearing with his Nespresso to set you straight.

Then there is the taste of fake coffee: chemicals mixed with soybean and corn. Really? If I wanted something that tasted like model airplane glue I’d just continue eating those amazing biscuits I’m addicted to that Lekna, our tea lady, serves me in large doses. I asked her where she found such tasty treats. Her reply raised an eyebrow: “My brother’s factory.” But doesn’t his factory produce engine oil? She giggled and nudged me to eat more. When I inspected the rather ordinary-looking box, I noticed a cryptic warning about not eating near an open flame.

Is nothing sacred? I can understand the motivation to fake certain high-margin items so that we can all have at the branded stuff that tycoons supply their mistresses with. We want to know how it feels. And why not? It’s like drinking whiskey or joining the army: if you’re mature enough to understand the consequences – and the questions – then we say, “Go.” Hey, are you sure that’s a good idea? Is that really going to make you feel better? Not sure Chanel does camouflage, but whatever, you look fine.

Coffee is just so innocent and easily accessible. The five carts lined up daily on Sihanouk seem to have no problem attracting happy customers who are only too happy to shell out riel for real. Do the counterfeiters believe they can get a better margin by selling soybean and bug spray to unsuspecting innocents? This question put Ricardo, Lekna and I on a hunt for libelous lattés (the milk might be gastric relief – bismuth subsalicylate…which could actually be helpful when mixed with the stuff that exterminated the cockroach commune behind your fridge). Other than acquiring way too many “buy ten get one free cards,” our quest came up empty – though I did discover that tycoon rings work well if you want to intimidate an extra stamp on the card (hint: piano your fingers on the counter while waiting for change – on a hundred of course).

All of us who enjoy our morning blast will forever be thankful for the day caffeine entered our lives (second only in importance to Head & Shoulders’ arrival). We will not be deterred by some unethical coffee interlopers who are trying to disrupt the fun – and the dandruff control (unless their soybean roach repellent is certified organic – then we might be lenient). Go on, gather up your java-loving friends, buy some scones and head to your local handicraft factory. Ask them what they’re serving alongside silk. Yes, bong, I know, but don’t make me pull out my tycoon ring – or call Clooney – okay?

January is a nice time to travel to the South Pacific nation of Nauru, the tiny island state famous for beach barbecues and refugee resettlement plans. You will be applauded for knowing that the name Nauru comes from the Nauruan word Anáoero, which means “I go to the beach.”

Last week, all 9,000 Naurunians welcomed some curious visitors to their beach. The group was a trade mission (of sorts) from Cambodia. These government adventurers were so keen to be the first to place an “I’ve been to Nauru pin” on the map at the Ministry of Trade that they traveled thousands of miles to the middle of nowhere to accomplish it.

If you want to stay ahead of the average human’s (or government official’s) Nauru knowledge, you’ll definitely want to be aware of Nauru’s status as the smallest state in the South Pacific and second smallest state by population in the world behind Vatican City. Rockefeller Without Borders tried contacting the Pope to see if he had any “messages of refugee settlement hope” to take to the Cambodian contingent on Nauru, but the best we could get was a recording that said “Press 3 for messages of hope,” only to get another recorded message that said: “If you’re calling about oil prices and your collapsing currency we suggest you pray. That’s your only hope.”

Hitting zero to hopefully get a human voice of hope, we landed on a gravelly sounding someone who, upon hearing the name Nauru shouted: “They’re a (bleep) tent city. We’re a (bleep) walled city!” and hung up.

Yes, okay, Nauru does have a thousand tent-sheltered refugees who the Cambodian government says are welcome to relocate from camp to Kingdom (just as soon as Australia’s cheque clears), but for the obstinate Vatican operator to call Nauru a (bleep) tent city does seem a bit harsh.

Nauru is a fully functioning country – which in today’s terms means crime, booze and the six o’clock news. The Vatican City’s refusal to discuss its little brother forced us, as a responsible NGO, to have a good look around the internet for some important facts to share with all of you who, like us, are anxiously awaiting news on just how the refugee negotiations and Tuesday night beach pub quizzes are going (bonus points for knowing that Nauru had presidents named Baron, Ludwig and Hammer).

Nauru sent two athletes, including one for judo, to the London Olympics. The country was also a former haven for money laundering – until the Australian government convinced them that havens for boat people are far less stressful (money launderers demand 5-star accommodation, tents will save money). Sensing some reluctance to give up its lucrative outlaw ways, the sympathetic Aussie negotiators said they’d help smooth the transition into this new, more lawful identity by designing a symbol that would designate Nauru’s status as the tiny-island-state-formerly-known-as-a-money-laundering-nation.

Several weeks ago, the Interior Ministry declared that this was going to be a trip to “present the reality of Cambodia” to these refugees, “not the advertising.” One reality we hope the Ministry presents – indeed advertises and promotes with passion and pride – is that taekwondo gold medallist and national icon Sorn Seavmey could easily put a serious ass-kicking on Nauru’s best.

Nauru uses the Australian dollar as its currency. Rockefeller Without Borders would like to commend the Cambodian government for strategically holding off its visit until the Aussie buck hit some serious American greenback lows. That savings will hopefully be put toward souvenirs, including a little gift for the Germans (we suggest a snowglobe, everyone loves those), who ruled Nauru for more than three decades in the late 1800s. Ask any German about Nauru’s former name, Pleasant Island, and he will tell you that the name was justified given that it was the only place on the equator to get a decent pint.

Speaking, if we may, for all Cambodians, Rockefeller Without Borders would like to tell the soon-to-be-arriving Nauru beachcombers that we have already removed “refugee,” “detention centre,” “tent city” and “person who does not want to be here” from our official government vocabulary. We want you to immediately feel comfortable in the Kingdom. Oh, and we were just kidding about Sorn Seavmey kicking your ass. Sort of.

Sentimentality is a powerful force in our lives. When it takes control it’s very difficult to dial it back. It’s an emotional aphrodisiac, the raw oyster that turns us on like no other.

But who doesn’t want to bring back that loving feeling sometimes, right? Why fight it?

Indeed, the already warm and generally pretty fuzzy Cambodian political climate couldn’t resist sentimentality’s seductive charms when it turned back the clock to unveil Prince Norodom Ranariddh’s return to the leadership of the Funcinpec party, creating, what some might now interpret, as a rather complicated love triangle in the Kingdom.

The surprise comeback is fuelling all kinds of speculation at a time when it seemed like Sam Rainsy was just getting himself settled in to the neighbourhood as leader of the opposition – Prime Minster Lite, title and all.

When Star Wars decided that the franchise could rise again, the people responded with excitement and heightened expectations. Never let a good thing die, and while you’re at it, bring back Luke Skywalker, Han Solo and Princess Leia.

Well, we are in that sort of mood now and ready to forgive 1997 for being so hostile to Funcinpec, the Storm Troopers for being so aggressive with our old heroes. 1997 was a long time ago. It should be remembered for ABBAMAIL, the first ABBA fan club launched on the internet on January 13, 1997.

Politically neutral, or, as we freely admit, politically impotent, Rockefeller Without Borders appreciates when former competitors unite for the common good. Finally, an aphrodisiac for our impotency.

If there’s room in the love triangle, we want in – but merely as an enthusiastic voyeur, of course. We love to watch. In this case, it’s Funcinpec joining forces with CPP to “maintain the sustainable development of Cambodia.”

But what about Sam? Where does the CNRP fit into all of this?

Film and television fans know that sequels usually lose a character or two; sometimes stars are forced to take significantly smaller roles or merely appear in flashbacks or dream sequences just so the story doesn’t lose the plot completely. Even Obi-Wan Kenobi knows that. But yes, it’s early days, so maybe there is room for all on the mother ship to power Cambodia through to 2018, when new stars will appear to make the political franchise even stronger (all calls to Macaulay Culkin went unanswered and Chewbacca is still upset that he wasn’t in Episode 6).

Despite Funcinpec not having a single seat in the National Assembly, the party vows to give their full cooperation to CPP, a partnership which could, quote, “eliminate poverty” by reuniting royalists with the ruling party. As anyone who lives on less than $1 a day can tell you, poverty reduction is overrated. And besides, the escalators at Aeon Mall are free. So is the air-conditioning. Laps of the mall make everyone feel like they are participating in the new, more affluent Cambodia. Everyone is an equal at Aeon! (They can thank me for the new tagline with a lunch at Kenny Rogers.)

Those who love a good flashback need only drift back to 1993 when two beautiful things happened: Funcinpec and CPP ran a joint government – Prince Ranariddh and Hun Sen as copasetic co-prime ministers – and Sonny and Cher released a remake of their huge 1965 hit I Got You Babe.

Well, Cher is touring again and Prince Ranariddh is back in charge of his party, so it’s safe to break out our favourite 1993 redux fashions – especially those cowboy boots, overalls and shoulder pads – and relive happier times. Just like the Sesame Street song, we know which one of these parties is not like the other. But the fact that time did kindly rewind to make those former partners fall in love again is a beautiful thing. No honeymoon, thank you very much, we know each other so well already.

The message to the people of Cambodia is simple: May the force of lower political expectations be with you in 2015.

December brings out behaviour that sometimes Christians can’t even explain. Sure, the 25th signifies a significant holiday (for most that being pre-Boxing Day or the day before you get out and buy more stuff you don’t need, except this time at a steep discount), but the normally agnostic Cambodian government is getting into the spirit of giving during the pre-holiday season and decided loving thy neighbour (but hopefully not coveting his wife) is the right thing to do. Rockefeller Without Borders breaks this political love-in down into stocking-stuffer chunks while sipping egg nog that our dear office tea lady, Lekna, made from an internet recipe she’d found while searching ‘Christmas drinks needing rum or they are pretty much undrinkable’.

As we know, the political Christmas wish lists were prepared months ago, but it seems our eager – and generous – prime minster couldn’t wait to share something rather extraordinary with his neighbour at the National Assembly, opposition leader Sam Rainsy. Not only did the prime minster agree to giving Mr Rainsy a “rank equal to prime minister”, he provided it without the pressure of Rainsy having to do prime ministerly things. How good is that? Being PM is hard. You have way too much authority to do things people don’t want you to do, which means you have way too many people complaining about what you did – then turning around and complaining about what you didn’t do. You can never win. As ‘prime minister lite’, Rainsy can get the same great benefits of being PM – traffic cleared for you, the best table at any restaurant, reserved parking spot at Aeon Mall, Putin’s phone number, you name it – all while being able to say: “Oh, sorry, that was the other prime minister” if someone comes to him with an annoying complaint. Sure, prime minister lite might not be so great in comparison to, I don’t know, drinking a lite beer: you don’t get the full impact, and eventually you just become bloated and tired and go home feeling like you didn’t have that much fun because people kept bumping into you and spilling their drinks on your shoes and not apologising (never mind the endless trips to the toilet where, due to budget cuts, only one urinal is operational, the hand-dryer is broken and the paper towels are empty).

Prime Minister Hun Sen didn’t want the early Christmas unwrapping to stop there, though. A speech at a Phnom Penh university graduation ceremony gave the public a firsthand look at a team of adults playing Santa in Range Rover sleds. Waving his hands towards a metaphorical sack of surprises for those both naughty and nice, the impartial prime minister outlined “Twelve points of imbalance in the Kingdom”, going so far as to admitting that some problem areas had expanded under his government’s leadership, words which sent the festive bells ringing, giving his opponents hope this new-found humility will continue into 2015 (unlike that sorry-but-this-has-expired-already gift card your uncle gave you last year for caramel lattes at Brown Coffee). Pleased with these early unravellings, veteran members of the opposition went so far as to say such generosity had never before been seen in more than 20 years of politics in this country, declaring themselves relieved by this ‘shift in Hun Sen’s mindset’ (and his decision to use recycled wrapping paper that didn’t harm any Ratanakiri trees). Opposition deputy leader Kem Sokha wasn’t so convinced, however, calling for more street demonstrations if additional demands aren’t met and quoting – rather cynically, perhaps – Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol: “Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs.”

Whatever your political, religious or lite beer affiliations, we must all remember ’tis the season to be jolly. Peace, love and the reality that Lekna was right: we do have to put a lot more rum in our egg nog to make it drinkable.

Now that the government has granted the opposition Cambodia National Rescue Party (CNRP) an analogue television license, we at Rockefeller Without Borders are faced with the very difficult decision about which of their long list of surely outstanding programmes we might actually watch. Promising television that party spokesman Yim Sovann says will be truly independent and professional, like the BBC and CNN, has us all excited about just how good the ticker tape at the bottom of the screen will be. We will be gripped by news updates and flashes that will make even Rupert Murdoch want to set up his own channel here in the Kingdom.

Besides, you can’t keep Fox News out of Cambodia for very long, can you? Fox wrote the book on independent programming. They will love the CNRP ticker tape: Black bear found in house with missing maid in stomach…Machetes voted weapon of choice now that hand grenades harder to get… Everyone loves North Korean girls… Vote for the guy who promises to attend your daughter’s wedding and hand out envelopes… Disgraced future son-in-law locks himself in fridge he bought for girl’s parents… Khieu Samphan bobblehead night at Phnom Penh football match… Corruption down, taking money up… Illegal clear-cut of Mondulkiri trees called a Twitter hoax by influential businessman… Mother of Oknha says rich is better than poor…

With content creation being left to impartial, independent producers, the chains are well and truly off. But what will they call this television channel? The CNRP Show? Hopefully not! They must decide on a name that will inspire people to tune in, turn on, drop out. Kick back on the sofa and be blown away by a menagerie of colours, shapes and mystical sounds.What?! Of course I’m simply referring to the exciting and highly educational wilderness show they have planned that will feature the adventures of Leopold the talking unicorn of Ratanakiri, the last green (though probably more turquoise, but don’t adjust your sets) unicorn of its kind in existence; a mystical creature that fights tree robbers, surviving only on forest mushrooms (they’re really great and will likely spin off a fantasy food and dance show featuring Leopold’s friend, Reginald the singing squirrel) and speaks 73 different languages, including the ancient dialect of Kornovthekhmer, the pre-Sanskrit root language of Khmer believed to have evolved from a tribe of Cro-Magnons who were the first to extract a potent alcohol from limestone cave walls that tasted like tequila, but gave it up when they realised booze hindered hunting and gathering, promoted gambling and was the main cause of extra-marital affairs.

CNRP station spokesman Sovann hopes their long line-up of hard-hitting shows will spark “public debate”. I, Rockefeller, have travelled the world seeking out debate. I can tell you that an impartial television programme about a green/turquoise talking unicorn will spark a lot of healthy, creative debate, but only if it’s in the Friday 9pm slot where it will compete with the government’s show about the kitten that refused to take a bribe (accusations that it looks like Hello Kitty are way out of line).

With ticker-tape scrolling across my brain, I shall go away and ponder the future of Cambodian television… Wait… This just in… Turquoise unicorn in critical condition in Ratanakiri hospital shouts: ‘Don’t eat the purple mushrooms!’ in 73 languages in a voice sounding eerily like a cross between Larry King and Sir Richard Attenborough and, rather more ominously, like a younger Bill O’Reilly… The show must go on, people! #PrayforLeopold

Two symbols of the new Cambodia both made separate exits last week: Sambo the elephant and the Chinese television drama Love Is Brave. Rockefeller Without Borders pays an investigative tribute to them both.

Life in Phnom Penh was never easy for the very popular Sambo, but after 33 years of entertaining grateful citizens, she was finally given the opportunity to retire and live the rest of her days in a peaceful sanctuary in Mondulkiri where it is hoped she will not be coaxed out of retirement with the promise of one more big payday. Representatives from a large US aid organisation have reportedly asked ageing American rocker Bob Seger (but not his Silver Bullet Band) to speak to Sambo’s handlers about the risks of doing a comeback tour when you are well past your prime. Seger’s manager said, quote: “Bob will play his hits Night Moves and Old Time Rock & Roll for Sambo to illustrate how little you really need to make money.

The lesson here is that Sambo should just be content to collect royalty cheques. Comeback tours by ageing entertainers can be embarrassing, not to mention disappointing and, quite frankly, frightening for fans.” Told Sambo was a gigantic elephant, the agitated manager replied: “So what?! If Sambo wants to let herself go like that, it’s her business! What is it? Booze, drugs?” Then he mumbled a few lines from the Seger ‘75 hit, Beautiful Loser, before trying to auction off an Against The Wind tour shirt (large, worn twice).

Love Is Brave, the Chinese soap opera that had been shooting in and around Cambodia earlier this year, found itself confronting the type of controversy that could make a comeback very difficult. The star-filled drama was put in an unfortunate predicament when its lead actor, Huang Haibo (rhymes with ‘Sambo’, purely coincidental) was arrested and put in prison for six months for soliciting a prostitute at a Beijing hotel, sending the show’s future into darkness and disarray.

Disappointed officials from both countries saw this soap as an excellent opportunity to showcase Cambodia to the world. In a desperate attempt to free Haibo and save the production, the show’s writers told authorities they would craft up an episode where Haibo falls victim to a temporary bout of immorality, visiting a prostitute because he was stricken by the dangerous demons of pre-marital sex that had taken over his body like some sort of Linda Blair devil child. By the third act, our hero wakes up to understand that real love is the only worthwhile pursuit, not some get-your-rocks-off-with-a-handy-hooker affair, looking at himself long and hard in the mirror before splashing cold water on his face and storming out of his apartment as the camera captures him pushing his way through a crowd at Phnom Penh’s busy Central Market to find his girlfriend and her mother haggling over jewellery, turning to see the beleaguered, barely recognisable Haibo dropping to his knees weeping, begging for forgiveness, which, with much cliffhanging tension sending audience heart-rates racing, mother and daughter eventually accept – but only after a clever negotiation tactic secures both Haibo and the lowest asking price on a diamond-encrusted jade ring.

By the time the credits roll – as Bob Seger’s We’ve Got Tonight plays softly in the background – there would not be a dry eye in the house, from Peking to Phnom Penh, and everyone, especially those impressionable younger fans of the show that this episode most wants to reach, would be taught a valuable lesson that prostitution doesn’t pay (unless it is purely platonic or someone gets a Louis Vuitton handbag). The show’s new slogan: ‘Use Haibo to educate, not fornicate!’ A writers’ chant echoing up to Mondulkiri, where our beloved Sambo and her handlers sit under a shady palm reflecting on their long, prestigious career in show business. The End.

Cambodia has found itself on another one of those ‘most corrupt’ lists. According to the website of TRACE, an organisation that specialises in anti-bribery compliance solutions, the newly launched TRACE Matrix is the first global business bribery risk index; a handy dandy anyone-and-their-grandmother-can-use-it corruption-busting tool. After (presumably) punching in a few numbers that looked strangely similar to Ricardo’s high score on Candy Crush, the Trace Matrix (no relation to Keanu) came up with a result that said the Kingdom is a whopping 89 out of 100. Now before you throw up your hands in a ‘we-finally-got-an-A-in-something-that-we-didn’t-have-to-pay-for’ celebration, they claim this score puts us in the category of having ‘a very high expectation of bribes’. So high, in fact, that we barely beat out our nearest competitors Nigeria, Yemen, Angola and Uzbekistan. I hate losing to Uzbekistan in anything except belbogli kurash, but we’ve got a very influential NGO working on that one, so don’t despair: we will own the Uzbeks in the kurash soon – or take the kurash judges out for a really great karaoke night to properly explain how the belbogli results should be from now on.

Rockefeller Without Borders is always highly suspicious of any index/matrix/whatever that presents itself as an all-caps acronym. TRACE. Sounds clever, right? Well, if you’re waiting for the punch line – something like Terrific Results After Cambodian Enjoyment (see preceding idea about big karaoke night) – you’ll sadly be left disappointed. These corruption busters apparently have no time for playing acronym games, unless they are guaranteed a score of 90. Instead, they stole a very fine English word to try to intimidate those whom they’ve deemed ‘risky’. Couldn’t they have used another word? If you want your global index/matrix/whatever to sound investigative and threatening, don’t use ‘trace’, a gentle word that most people associate with the Etch A Sketch. Yes, you remember that wonderful entertainment device: hours of creative enjoyment for the entire family.

Introduced to the world in 1960, not 2014! An inclusive toy; everyone can get involved. No embarrassing rankings to determine who is better than who! Simply turn the two plastic knobs and trace soft, happy lines across a screen. When you want to erase that trace, you just turn the small console upside down, shake it and start again. Now don’t get any ideas! I am not suggesting this newly introduced TRACE intruder could have similar features like, say, turn 89 upside down to 68 thereby tying Cambodia with Nauru and finally giving those sceptical soon-to-be-arriving refugees some hope that we actually do have one thing in common (besides a love of sashimi).

Instead of TRACE, this mysterious, unimaginative group could have called their product EMBRACE: an equally strong word with powerful connotations that would surely make even the most hardened slide-the-briefcase-under-the-table-now-thank-you-very-much corrupster smile and say ‘Sorry, it’s all just been a misunderstanding.’ Reform before you scorn, we always say here at Rockefeller Without Borders. Let’s EMBRACE, not TRACE. But just to be clear: anyone who messes with my personal Etch A Sketch will score a 100/100 on the risk that you will have more than likely started an international incident. Remember, we are without borders here at Rockefeller; we have the capacity to trace, I mean ‘find’ you, faster than you can say ‘belbogli kurash’!