My last day at Anjali House coincided with the big party to celebrate Khmer New Year: Sou’s Day Chnyom Tmei!  New Year’s here is like Christmas and New Years back in the West. The anticipation, the celebration is just as intense and just as elaborate. The entire country seems to be on the move as people travel all over to be with their families. Anjali House will be closed for the week, after having made sure that each and every kid has a safe place to spend the holiday.

I couldn’t have chosen a better time to have my last day. As you can imagine, I was quite sad at the thought of leaving. Anjali House, and Cambodia in general, have really become my home away from home. I know I’ll be back next year, but still, it’s always hard to say goodbye. But a day of insanity — which is what these New Year celebrations turn into — made it easier.

Let me explain. The party lasted all day. It started with a couple of hours of traditional games, many of which are the same as we have in the West. Musical chairs, a blindfolded game which seems to be a cross between Pin the Tail on the Donkey and hitting a piñata, a relay race holding a balloon between two people and trying not to spill the spoonful of water which you need to get to the jug at the other end of the field. During all this, there was face painting — not only of the kids, but the staff, too. Even I had a discreet, terribly sophisticated star painted on my cheek. And of course, karaoke. Always, karaoke.

Lunch was a huge affair. The women who cook for the kids every day had been cooking for two days. There was Khmer Curry, rice, spring rolls, tempura vegetables, and then as a special treat, bottles of strawberry soda, which tasted like a cross between Kool-Aid and “bug juice”, as I recall from my day camp days. In the middle of it all, they made two presentations. The most important one was saying goodbye and thank you to the young Australian woman who had worked for an entire year in the capacity of Management Support Officer. And then they called me up and presented me with flowers and a card signed with notes from all the staff and my students. That certainly didn’t help me fight back the tears, as you can imagine. But soon after that, the insanity began.

I video’d this, but infuriatingly, I can’t seem to upload it from my camera to my computer no matter what I do. Forgive me. I’ll have to describe it instead: A table was brought into the middle of the large forecourt. On the table was placed a potted plant. The music began, a sort of traditionally-inspired Khmer pop music. Slowly everyone started to dance around the table. The dance was slowish and used the type of hand motions you see in traditional Khmer Apsara dancing –hands circling back and forth, arms lifting up and down like serpents. I was happy to sit and watch, until one of my younger students came and pulled me into the dance. Eventually, as the music got faster, it turned into a conga line of kicking legs and wiggling hips. Great fun, and funny, but not yet insane. Then I noticed a couple of teachers carrying a large bag out from around the side of the building, and the next thing I knew, all the kids had small containers of talcum powder which they started to run around with, trying to rub it into everyone’s hair, spread it onto their clothes, wipe it onto faces. In a matter of minutes we were all covered in white. This is a tradition which probably started hundreds of years ago with ashes as some sort of purification ritual. It has come a long way from that. Now, it turns into a powder fight with talcum flying everywhere. And as that became as wild as it could, out came the bottles of water and the hose — another traditional ritual gone haywire. This was the biggest water fight I have ever seen, and by this time, I’m happy to say, I was giving as good as I got, chasing my kids down the street to squirt water at them, splashing all the little ones, not to mention my fellow teachers and staff. Eventually, water bottles and hoses weren’t enough and I found myself being chased by kids holding buckets of water which were then poured on top of me. We were all drenched. It took over a day to dry out my clothes. But such fun! I don’t think I’ve acted as silly or laughed so much in a very long time.

Thanks to Volunteer Coordinator, Sally Hetherington, for this photo

And then the party was over. Everyone helped to clean up. Everyone said goodbye and went off, either on foot, bicycle, moto or tuk tuk, and I was left waiting for my own ride in the deserted quiet. My new friend, Sreylin, a remarkable young Khmer woman who is the Assistant Director of the Young Adult Program and served as my partner in the workshops, sat with me and chatted about the holiday, the kids, and my own next trip over here, knowing that, in some unbelievable quirk of fate, this country and this shelter have become the outlet for my writing and a focus for my work.