Awkunh...

Awkunh...this means thank you in Cambodian...so much to be thankful for...

Thankful to my school for sending me with this group of 70 kids to experience this magical country, thankful  to the amazing people I met at every roadside pisser, restaurant, bar and hotel, thankful to ACODO for showing me that helping children in need is an honor and thankful to the children I met for making my life better...

We flew into Phnom Penh in the middle of the Cambodian afternoon heat and marched straight to customs to get our visas which were $20.00 US...you pay for everything in Cambodia with American Dollars, but get your change in Cambodian Riel as the exchange is around 4000-1...after a brief wait and relatively few hassles we embarked on our tour bus and headed for the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum...The entrance was guarded by a gauntlet of pitiful beggars which we had to maneuver  through to get inside, who made a small fortune off of our kids...I You always notice the smells in a new city, particularly the Asian cities I have visited...sugarcane, durian, grease, beer and I think in Cambodia you can almost smell the heat in the dust that hangs in a haze over the dirty streets...

This was a place you cannot prepare for...most have a basic knowledge of Pol Pot and his regime, but the museum put his evil into perspective...Tuol Sleng means Strychnine Hill and is a high school which was converted for use as a torture and extermination camp for the Khmer Rouge...it is quite peaceful upon first entry, the only sounds being the occasional whisper of the palm trees and the low murmur of the various tour guides...there wasn't a cloud i the sky and the heat was oppressive, but it was a tranquil place reminiscent of any  high school...the faded two story classrooms formed an L shape to the left of the main entrance and a security wall to the right which completed the compound wore a colorful crown of broken glass which glowed like a line of Christmas lights in the midday sun... there were vendors scattered around here and there selling drinks, jewelry and t-shirts and a donation jar which sat in half-full before a makeshift Buddhist altar...

We started our tour in the building block to the immediate left...the "classrooms" all had black and white checkered floors as many classrooms do, but this is where the similarity ended...each of the rooms I saw were still possessed of the torturous props used there...generally a steel bed with handcuffs and various cold steel tools which were stripped of their original function and used for death instead...some had batteries with short cables which ended in metal alligator-like clamps...all of the rooms had faded, bone colored walls...they all felt like death and misery...

The next building block was devoted primarily to the victims...the first room had bins full of the victim's clothes on the ground, men's, women's and children's...on the walls were a couple of Khmer Rouge uniforms...black with the red scarf...but as you turn to the right, the real horror begins...the entire building has a continuous hallway, punctuated by classrooms on either side, filled with black and white photos of suffering and death...many pictures were of skulls and bones excavated from this place as well as various killing fields around Cambodia...some were of bodies disrespectfully thrown together in death...but the ones which had the most profound impact on me were the picture of the living...the pictures of the doomed...men, women and children staring an undeserved demise in the face and having no hope of escape, their only crime being born who they were...

On the way out we passed the gallows and drowning pots which still stand casting their cold shadows over the courtyard...there was a percievable difference in the mood of the students after hearing the guide speak of the horrors of this place and seeing the machinations and images of torture and death...

We boarded the bus and stopped for a bite to eat and hit a supermarket before hitting the road for the 8 hour journey to Siem Reap...the traffic system is amazing in Cambodia...the majority of the traffic is small motorcycles and they generally ride in schools like loud polluting fish...traffic lights are rare so the system basically consists of the leader of the school turning  directly in front of another vehicle and the rest of the fish following sometimes driving on the wrong side of the street...

The drive to Siem Reap was interesting...about an hour outside of Phnom Penh a storm blew in from the south, the wind bending the palm trees and painting the long grass which grew in the dry rice fields and the numerous lily-filled ponds along the roadside...our bus was pushed about a little bit, bullied by the storm coming down from the dark skies...the roads were rather rough, punctuated by small villages and stilted huts...stray dogs and barefoot children roamed freely while melancholy shopkeepers leaned on the counters of their tiny shops dreamily gazing at the passing traffic...

We pulled into Siem Reap at around 8:30 and went straight to eat what would turn out to be the first of many less than stellar meals...the meals consisted of the same dishes, regardless of the place...steamed rice, onion omelette, greens, roasted chicken, fried fish-paste, roasted whole fish(bony as hell) and a steamboat full of soup...twice a day, everyday...the hotel breakfast buffet wasn't much better...noodles, toast, pancakes or waffles and bitter coffee...the best meals I had by far were from a small Pho stand across the street from the hotel... tender chunks of pork swimming in a sweet savory broth with sprouts, carrots and fresh basil topped with a dash of chili...washed down with cold thick cafe da became my two dollar morning ritual...

The hotel was basic and my room was actually fairly large...the staff was very polite...I was in charge of the male students, making sure they were in their rooms by 10 or 11...you could order a massage for about seven dollars an hour which a few of the boys took full advantage of, occasionally behind locked doors...you could buy a bottle of Angkor Beer in the lobby for two dollars and they had a table and chairs on the front drive where you you could sit and drink it while watching the street scene unfold as day turned to night...there was a small bar across the street where I spent a few restful evenings unwinding that had the coldest been in Siem Reap...the wifi was free and fast and late at night a porridge stand would open up which filled the air with the smell of roasted meat...there was a constant stream of locals, mostly tuktuk drivers, who came and grabbed take away bags...it smelled so good I was tempted to try it, but I am not a fan of that dish...one evening the owner joined me at my table with his laptop and we shared a few hours of our lives talking about Cambodia, Singapore and America...

The way to ACODO was a winding riverside dirt road which was undergoing some major renovations to beautify and clean it up in an effort to make a river walk...some parts were stagnant and filled with a bright green algae of some kind and there was an abundance of trash in most parts of it...local children sought refuge from the Cambodian heat at one particular portion of still-water on the Eastbank right across from a crocodile farm, swimming with the plastic bottles...the road was lined with vendors in small buildings selling the usual goods... beer, cigarettes, soft drinks, candy, canned foods and toiletries...

The pain of strangers in need has always made me a bit uncomfortable, especially children, so I didn't know what exactly to expect when we pulled up to the orphanage for the first time...as we pulled up the children all came running to greet us at the bus, greeting us with heartbreaking enthusiasm...once we were inside Veasna, the director, blew a whistle and the children immediately organized themselves into lines according to age and greeted us formally...there are children of all ages at ACODO, from 6 months to 18 years...

The entrance is guarded by a gate which faces the main road and standing at the gate I could gaze across the river at a tall golden temple...upon entering the main office is on the left hand side, sitting behind this were the classrooms, followed by a gathering area and stage, followed by the kitchen and ending with the girls dorms and the toilet/shower area...on the right of the buildings stretched a long sandy open area where the children played, closed in by a cement wall which opened into an adjacent area containing the boys dorm...on the cement wall was posted a collection of the orphan's pictures along with their names, approximate ages and a brief description of th circumstances which forced them into their present situations...some were abandoned, some came from families which simply had to many children to sustain, some parents had died and some were given up because mothers had remarried and the new husband didn't feel responsible for the new child in their life...all of the situations were tragic, yet the faces above the tragedies were all smiling and beautiful...you could choose to sponsor a child either for food, school or pocket money...

Our job at ACODO was two fold and the students were split into two rotating groups...one job was to give classes to the children and the other was to shovel and move dirt to fill a low spot in front of the boys dormitory to prevent flooding during the rainy months of summer...our students were divided into language, aesthetics and athletics and created a variety of exercises for the orphans including painting, grammar lessons, games and football...the other group, my group used shovels and stretchers to move tons of dirt  and spread it over a 50X50 area using nothing but shovels, picks and stretchers made of rice-sacks stretched between 6 foot bamboo poles...for five to six hours a day we would shovel, carry and dump the dirt in the 105 degree heat to help keep the coming flood-waters at bay...

I met all of th children throughout the week but there were two who made the most impact...the first was a teenage boy named Sovy who had been badly burned over a significant percentage of his body, including his face and head but I never found out how this happened as I didn't want to ask...he was very polite and extremely soft spoken always greeting me with a highfive in the morning and seeing me off with a hug...apparently they lack the surgical ability to fix him in Cambodia, so they were looking for ways to raise funds to send him to Singapore for the procedure...he was an amazing kid and as I found out on our last night, very talented...

The orphans put on a show of traditional Khmer dance nightly at 6:30...they dawn traditional costumes which they have sewn themselves...the costumes are brightly colored and trimmed with gold...the music is performed live by the children as well using xylophone, percussion and some form of woodwind type instruments...occasionally you can hear an angels voice floating and weaving through the lazy rhythms... high pitched and hauntingly melodic...the second time it appeared, I leaned over to look and see who the owner was of this beautiful voice and to my surprise it was Sovy...he hides himself in the back because he is self-conscious of his appearance but his voice is a miracle that should be heard by all...

Then there was Tola...I first saw her playing some kind of game with the other children on the dirt yard outside the office, something similar to red rover...she was constantly being passed over due to her size, but she never was discouraged and kept playing on anyway...after the game, one of my colleagues, Sharon, asked in semi jest if I was going to adopt a little girl while I was there since I already have two boys...I kind of laughed it off and she asked if hypothetically if I was to adopt, who would it be...both of our eyes combed the grounds until we both looked at Tola and I said she was the prettiest one...Sharon agreed...I walked over to the swings and took a picture of her and asked for a hug...she reluctantly agreed and moved off of the swing and into my arms...she was small and frail and I could feel the need in her body for someone to love her...she only smiles with her lips pursed as her teeth are in fairly bad shape, but even that tight-lipped grin was enough to melt my heart...

Throughout the remaining days at ACODO, I would find myself looking forward to seeing her before she left for school as the older kids went in the morning and the younger kids went in the afternoon...I would steal a hug whenever I could, but they were always much to brief as she is very shy and I am fairly intimidating to small children...one day I was scanning the wall with the orphans pictures during a water break and I found her picture and story...she was difficult to recognize as her hair was very short, but I knew that tight-lipped tragic grin...her full name is Tola Kon which means one born in October of great virtue...she was born on October 20, 2004, which is difficult to believe due to her size and she was orphaned roughly a year ago...her father died and her mother remarried but the new husband didn't feel she fit into the grand scheme of things so they gave her to ACODO to raise...thinking about this now while writing makes me so fucking angry...I was first taken aback by this and extremely saddened...how does that scenario actually play out?? What do you say to a child you want to give up, to give away to strangers to raise...a child so beautiful and frail? How is it that I see her for a week and fall for her completely, but the mother who gave her life sets her on the doorstep of an orphanage and walks away forever...I don't understand this side of humanity, I never have and I never will...why have a child to turnaround and give her away seven years into her life...eventually the sadness gave way to a seething anger at the injustice of it all and this anger will always remain when my thoughts turn to Tola Kon's parents...

It was at this time that I found out Tola needed a food sponsor...for $52.00 a month we are helping to ensure that Tola has food to eat...the money actually goes into a larger pool for all of the orphans, but it is for her and in her name...once the paper work was completed, Veasna walked me over to her and explained to her who I was and what I was doing...she looked me in the eyes the entire time he was speaking and I think I saw a bit of the ice melt that has crusted her heart since she was pawned off by the animal who calls herself  her mother...she then handed me a folded up slip of paper and gave me the first unsolicited hug of the week before promptly running off to play with some of my students...that moment is frozen in time I will never forget the warmth I felt...It was a moment where I knew I had done something truly good in my life, something that mattered...I showed love to someone who didn't want it, but needed it...needed to feel like she mattered to someone...needed to feel human....like a beautiful little angel...At that moment I vowed to do anything I could to help this child...after all, you can't help everybody so you have the choice of helping somebody or nobody...I chose to help somebody...

Leaving the orphanage on the last day was very difficult for me... for everybody...after we had finished our work, we had to say our goodbyes...and even though we knew we were coming back to see the show that evening, we knew that our time had come to an end...our students were very emotional, even the boys, and the goodbye took a good 45 minutes...I found Tola in the crowd and scooped her up for a hug...I asked her if she wanted to go with me, of course she said no a scurried off to say goodbye to the much cooler teenagers...but I didn't take it too hard...the orphans mobbed us all the way to the bus where they stood waving and shouting at us until they faded from our sight and into our memories into a cloud of Cambodian dust while my students sobbed silently on the bus mopping at their tear streaked cheeks...

We saw the children again that evening at the show and they gave us a long goodbye song...they all gathered on the front of the stage and clapped out a rhythm while they sang us a farewell song in Cambodian...I was filming and taking pictures when Tola looked right at my camera and smiled a full grinning smile while she was singing...my heart froze...

The last Saturday before we left was the day we visited the temples of Angkor Wat... I'll let the pictures I took speak for themselves, but let me just say that it is a majestic and powerful place...it makes you feel small in the grand scheme of things because it is just a massive place...this size is magnified by the knowledge of the sheer effort it took to construct it considering the tools and technology which were available...everyone needs to visit this network of  temples at least once in their lives...

We flew out on Sunday after making one last surprise visit to ACODO to say our final, final goodbyes...lifting off from Siem Reap I gazed down upon the city and realized just how much I had learned...I learned that my group of students, with a few exceptions, are a really good group of kids who embraced the back-breaking work and relished the opportunity to serve and help the orphans...I learned that the people of Cambodia, despite the decades of hardship they have endured are a very polite and kind people...I learned that the children of ACODO are made of  gold so warm and pure that that they can still smile and laugh regardless of the pile of shit life has left them with, because ultimately they have each other...I learned that helping those in need should never be a source of discomfort or cynicism, but pride and love..and I learned that I have a love and a duty to help Tola Kon in any way I can...beginning with a sponsorship and hopefully ending with much more...

Awkunh...

MCA

MCA...rough voiced rough housed motherfucker. As with everyone I know this has sent a shiver of mortality down the collective spines of everyone in their 40's. Spring Break of 86 was a time of growth and cliche', working congruently to form the base of who I am...and I am going to take the liberty of speaking for just about everyone I know...say what you will about the Beastie Boys, they are one of THE unique pioneering acts of our generation, and if you don't like them, well...I probably don't like you....

I won't speak about MCA in a linear way..he was a Buddhist...and Buddhists don't hold a linear world view...they...we...believe that until you are enlightened, you are trapped in Samsara, the eternal cycle of life..bound by your desires, your thirst...Tanha...which cause you ceaseless Dukkha...suffering...so to look at life in terms of a mortal birth and a corporeal death is short sighted and shallow...which I am not...and I truly believe that if you examine your life, you will find that all of you needless suffering is born of desire...desire for what you want and what you can't have...desire for what you have had and lost...desire to know what lies beyond this mortal coil...after all...who really knows...so why waste your time thinking of the eternity which lies beyond your grasp...pondering where you came from and where you are going is begging for defeat...you, and I are here...now...

When I awoke to this news, I was in Siem Reap, Cambodia...the most spiritual place I have been...and I've been around...I immediately went to Gratitude, which is ironic as you never hear his voice on this song...what you do hear is the fattest, most moving bass lines of all time...and of course, gratitude is what we all feel for the eternal impact this man had on our lives...I made a point of listening to this song as I crossed the bridge over the Angkor Wat moat, gazing upon this inhuman majesty under the merciless Cambodian sun...I know this is what he would want...not in a contrived, Christian "He is looking down on me" way...but as a fellow musician and a fellow traveller on the difficult path of Samsara...

There are innumerable musical meomories of MCA...and all of us have them...the outpouring of his lyrics on Facebook have seved to legitimize such an often maligned platform...but this is a testament of the good it can do...bringing those together that may be separated by miles...tens of thousands of miles in my case...and uniting us in memory, freezing time in a place when we were all care free and happy...not that we aren't carefree and happy now...but Austin in the early 90's was an organic and special time, and I truly believe that history will give us our due...although  it may live in infamy as the single most underrated scene in history...Lance, Matt, Nappy, JD, Peoples, Adam. Danny, Al, Sam, Kevin...the list of talented motherfuckers goes on...and on...and on and on...

His lyrics and voice were unique and raw...always serving as a stark contrast to his mates...and I often think of the irony of it all...the roughest Beastie Boy was ultimately doomed by the same throat that sent shivers up and down my spine at the drop of a hat...but...life ultimately has no pity for irony, so we live on...

 or we don't...

But if we do...we mourn and we pay respect and we put on our headphones and we will always hear him as we knew him the first time we heard him, as this is our gift... his immortality...he may not live and breathe, but he will always live in my heart and soul...there will be memories I have which he will always be the soundtrack to...and there will be moments in the future which I attach his voice to...knowing that he would want it this way...

I love MCA...as I love Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Charles Bukowski,Issac Hayes,Guru, SRV,Freddie Hubbard...

and I love you...