The Phnom Penh Post - ENGLISH: “Or exit the relationship” plus 9 more

Either you get the client to really address the issues or we need to exit the relationship.

After the Cambodian premiere of Don't Think I've Forgotten, a documentary on the stars of country's '60s rock 'n' roll era, you might be inspired to pick up an instrument. Whether it's a guitar or a snaeng, we've got some suggestions of where to start.

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MUSIC BIOGRAPHY

The life of Cambodian musician Arn Chorn Pond – from surviving the Khmer Rouge by entertaining soldiers with his flute-playing, to founding Cambodian Living Arts in an attempt to keep traditional Khmer arts alive – makes for an incredible story. The English-language novel based on that life, Never Fall Down by Patricia McCormock, was a National Book Award finalist last year and a Khmer version has just been released. You can purchase the book at CLA (cambodianlivingarts.org) or www.marioninstitute.org/store/. for $13.
Cambodian Living Arts, Sothearos Boulevard.

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SNAENG

The snaeng ($70) is made from the horn of a water buffalo or cow. It's played like a western alpine horn or trumpet by blowing through a hole in the small end of the horn. Variation of sounds can be achieved by partially covering the larger hole. According to musical instrument manufacturer Cambodian Arts, the snaeng is used to "call ancestral spirits, bless and aid successful jungle hunts and in ritualistic healing ceremonies". Or you could just hang it on your wall.
Cambodian Arts (cambodianarts.co).

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KHLOY

The Khloy ($20) is a traditional Cambodian flute made from heavy wood or bamboo that is said to be relatively easy to play with a beautiful full sound. The khloy aek is smaller with a higher pitch, while the khloy ou is larger and produces lower, deeper tones. Khloys are played for entertainment and leisure, and can be found in many types of traditional Cambodian music ensembles. Khloys are inexpensive, small and easy to transport, and popular with people of all ages.
Cambodian Arts (cambodianarts.co).

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TRADITIONAL KHMER SONGS

For a good introduction to traditional Khmer songs, you could do worse than to purchase the album of Cambodian singer Ieng Sithul and rising star Ouch Savy, Sarikakeo ($12). The CD features 12 Cambodian love songs and other favourites. For Cambodian folk songs check out Khmer Passages, which features some of the greatest remaining masters of traditional Khmer instruments.
You can buy the CDs either at Cambodian Living Arts (cambodianlivingarts.org), the Plae Pakaa theatre at the National Museum, Monument Books or from www.marioninstitute.org/store/.

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PIANO SHOP

If you're looking to make a real investment, Phnom Penh's piano shop opened its new location on Street 178 recently. Find pianos ranging from $2,999 (Yamaha U1) to $25,999 (Yamaha Grand Piano), and digital pianos ranging from $1,999 for a Roland F-120 to $5,250 for an Aura LX-802. The Piano Shop also offers keyboards: a Roland RD-300NX ($2,399) and a Roland RD-700NX ($3,799).
The Piano Shop, #13 Street 178

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STICKY FINGERS PRINTS

Lots of band posters sold at Sticky Fingers. Prices range from $70 for the smallest to $190 for the largest. They also sell prints without the frame for $50.
Sticky Fingers – Art Prints, Shop #29, Golden Sorya Mall.

ELECTRIC GUITAR

Sticky Fingers has this electric Spectrum guitar model on sale as well as traditional Khmer instruments.
Sticky Fingers – Art Prints, Shop #29, Golden Sorya Mall.

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RETRO POPSTAR POSTERS

A little 1960s-inspired shop inside the Russian Market is a hidden gem. Film and music posters, CDs, T-shirts and more are on offer, all channelling the '60s Cambodia era. Posters of record covers range from $10 to $15.
Russian Market, near the food stalls, close to the antiques, shop number 807.

The local business community in the coastal town of Kep is warming up to the idea of supporting grassroots tennis programmes in both cash and kind.

As a starter, several businessmen attended a presentation from the Tennis Federation of Cambodia at Villa Romonea earlier this week, at the end of which donations to cover the cost of eight new bicycles to be given away to players were made in quick time.

The community has also pledged sustained backing for TFC's ongoing programmes at ASPECA orphanage as well as Academy of Kep.

During the presentation, the TFC highlighted the performances of three Kep players from ASPECA in the recently held National Junior Tournament. While Chen Samphors and Cheum Seyha got through the early rounds, Sen Sophon did the orphanage proud by winning the Boys U14 singles title.

"Sen Sophon is a shining example of success that comes out of hard work and determination. There are so many other talented boys and girls in Kep who need your support," TFC Secretary General Tep Rithivit said in his address.

The Federation's technical director and national team head coach Braen Aneiros presented to the business community a detailed account of their player pathway, which takes boys and girls from a very young age through grassroots, Tennis 10s and junior initiatives to national team reckoning. Mam Phalkun, who heads both the schools and junior tennis initiatives, then noted the benefits of providing bicycles for the youngsters.

"The Academy of Kep players usually travel by tuk-tuk to the only standard court in town at Villa Romonea. Sometimes they have to hire more than one. Over the course of the year the travel costs mount up.

These bikes will benefit them a great deal," he said. "'These are the more advanced kids who have come up through the Tennis 10's and are now ready for the real court."

Course for coaches
The TFC will organise a two-day refresher course for coaches at the National Training Centre beginning today.

The course, to be attended by all 17 TFC coaches including two women from Battambang and Siem Reap, will be conducted by Braen Aneiros.

Several private coaches from Phnom Penh are also expected to attend the theory-cum-practical course.

At press time, Who Killed Chea Vichea?, an award-winning documentary film which investigates the 2003 assassination of trade union leader Chea Vichea, was scheduled to be shown at the Cambodian Center for Human Rights headquarters on Friday. In the morning, it was cancelled. The film has screened in 20 countries, at dozens of film festivals and has been aired on US TV, but in Cambodia some officials have said it is banned. Rich Garella, producer of the film, was to hold a Q&A session after the screening, and Dave Welsh, country director of the Solidarity Center, was slated to speak about the international trade union situation. Daniel Quinlan talked to Garella about what the 10th anniversary of the slaying means..

What was it about Chea Vichea that made him so special?
He was incorruptible. He was tirelessly working. His single-minded focus is something that's quite rare in Cambodia. He had an ability to speak to people that was almost entrancing.

Do you think the killing was a successful political act?
In many ways the killing of Chea Vichea was a successful political act. It's simply not true that every person is replaceable and the regime here knows that. Vichea was a very special personality. He had an enormous personal magnetism, he galvanised the workers in this huge industrial sector representing mostly young women from all over the country, and in that, the movement he was building was a political threat. The loss of Chea Vichea, while it may have made some people aware of the overall political situation, meant the loss of someone who really had unique abilities to galvanise the population.

What made Chea Vichea such a threatening figure for the government?
Chea Vichea as a leader of garment workers was representing an industry that, at about 400,000 workers at the time, represents a huge segment of the population of young women between 16 and 25. That means that these young women are coming into the cities potentially learning about Chea Vichea and, when he was alive, actually listening to Chea Vichea and bringing information back to their villages that their parents, their brothers, their cousins, might never have heard. That's what made Chea Vichea a threatening figure for the government and also what makes the film a threat to the government.

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How much work went into making the film?
There were several years of filming, mostly by the director Bradley Cox who did an incredible job of tracking down the facts around this case, tirelessly following every lead as far as it went. After that we were producing editing, finding funding, doing all kinds of legal work, raising money. It's a massive endeavour to produce an hour-long film but we did it because we felt it represented one of the only times that a case would be followed from beginning to end. We felt this case represented a microcosm of Cambodian politics.

Do you think his killers will face justice?
I think the real perpetrators of this crime will face justice: depending on your beliefs, it might be in this world, or it might be in the next . . . What's been happening here just in the past week with arrests of protesters and more extreme crackdowns is, I believe, a sign of extreme weakness and fear on the part of the regime.

What are the factors that have combined to create this tense political situation?
One is the garment workers themselves and their increasingly organised insistence on a higher minimum wage and respect for labour laws, the difficulty the regime seems to be having in keeping its own forces in line. Another factor is the increasing impatience of foreign donors with the situation that never seems to resolve itself, year after year. Then at the same time we have the 10th anniversary of the killing of Chea Vichea and I think that makes people more aware of the temporal dimension of this: that we can look 10 years back from now and see a very serious crime that was committed and that there still has been no justice. It's a very sharp reminder that although there might be some superficial improvements in GDP and that kind of thing, the situation in Cambodia at its base level has not changed.

Is this screening a test for the government?
We run under the assumption that Cambodia as a country that has the rule of law and has freedom of expression enshrined in its constitution would allow that. Whether they allow it or not, we don't know. It's a test [to see] if the government here wants to respect the foundations on which it is supposedly based, and respect the rights of the people. Of course [if they do] they will do what any normal government in the world would do and not interfere at all.

"Four months after giving birth, a soldier raped me. That's partly why I have some issues about sex." "My community says I'm not a good woman – I didn't get married traditionally." "I felt so much pain – and I held that in for 30 years."

These are just a handful of the brave testimonies from women who suffered gender-based violence (GBV) at the hands of the Khmer Rouge regime. Not included in the public sphere of the Khmer Rouge Tribunal (KRT), they are shared at self-help groups and women's hearings organised by the Women and Transitional Justice in Cambodia project.

On Wednesday, the survivors' ordeals will go public when four short documentaries about the project, produced and directed by Nicolaus Mesterharm with the help of his partner and fellow filmmaker Sao Sopheak, will premiere at Meta House.

In 2011, the project, implemented by the Victim Support arm of the Extraordinary Chambers of the Courts of Cambodia (ECCC), the Cambodian Defenders' Project (CDP) and the Transcultural Psychosocial Organisation (TPO), was awarded funding from the UN Trust Fund to End Violence Against Women, and has since provided support to 137 survivors of GBV including forced marriage, domestic violence and rape. The real number of survivors, according to TPO psychologist and project co-ordinator Kim Thida, is much greater. Some are still in denial about what happened to them, she said. Others are afraid of being stigmatised by their friends and neighbours. While Thida can talk to them alone and informally, they can't receive the same official testimony therapy as those who have filed an official complaint.

Through her work, Thida has come face to face with a range of cases, including women who were raped as young as nine years old. Of those who were forced into marriage, some were just 14, and many were raped by their husbands.

While it was part of the Khmer Rouge's doctrine to separate families, they sadistically and arbitrarily paired up men and women with a view to them reproducing, thereby upholding the doctrine of preserving a pure Khmer heritage. Many survivors have spoken of how they would be forced to have sex with their husbands on their wedding night – or face execution.

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Thida said: "Their lives are severely affected by this forced marriage, because in Khmer tradition, marriage is very sensitive. We have to get married traditionally, with the clothes and the music. Women and men can pick who they love, they can say,
'He's a good man, I want to live with him.' At that time, they had no chance to choose who they want. Even if they know the guy is not a good guy, they had no choice."

Khmer Rouge soldiers would also keep women and have sex with as and when they pleased. Thida spoke of one woman, whose case she described as "sexual torture", who was kept in a small prison cell with 50 other women for several months.

Every day she would be raped by different soldiers, Thida said. In the documentary broadcasting the testimonials, two separate women talk about how they witnessed men fatally violate women with a hot iron rod.

Both the effects and coping methods resulting from GBV manifest themselves differently depending on the survivor. Thida said: "Some days they are willing to talk about it, some days they don't want to. They have post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) – rape and forced marriage still affect them, they cannot focus and they have psychosomatic complaints, they have strong fears for no reason."

Relationships following such abuse often break down, Thida said. Many of the women she works with don't have a good relationship with their community. She said: "They feel alone, that's why they become more isolated and just not able to discuss their stories, even with their families."

While the beneficiaries of the Women and Transitional Justice in Cambodia project benefit from TPO's services, their stories haven't been put on the agenda at the KRT. According to the CDP's project co-ordinator Doung Savorn, this is down to a number of reasons to do with the future of the court which are outside the project's control. Case 002/001, the verdict of which is still being drafted, dealt solely with forced movements such as the evacuation of Phnom Penh. Furthermore, the Khmer Rouge leaders being brought to trial argue that the GBV perpetrated by individuals had nothing to do with Khmer Rouge policy.

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What, then, of forced marriages? Were they not part of that policy? Savorn said: "Yes exactly, I don't know either. Maybe people don't think that gender-based violence issues are serious."

He added: "It's easier to link the crime with the accused, like mass evacuation for example, and this takes a lot of time. I don't think the court will put the forced marriage case on the agenda, because of time limits."

This is why the project organised women's hearings, to give survivors a platform to testify against the Khmer Rouge and to share their experiences with others who have gone through a similar ordeal. It's also the reason why Mesterharm decided to document the process. He said: "I wish these issues had been discussed in the trial, to give a formalised approach to it. But then again, it's been discussed in women's hearings, and broadcast through these documentaries. Rather than blaming people and saying, 'You didn't address it,' what can we, the civil society, do to address it? That's what this project is about."

While the future of the court remains unclear, the current funding from the UN Trust Fund to End Violence Against Women will run out in September. What is the future for the project, and for the rehabilitation of these women? At present, Thida said, they don't know. "We'd really love to, because we can see that there's still a lot of survivors who need help – not just civil parties but in the community as well. But for now, we can't say if we're going to apply for another grant or not."

Savorn was less positive, saying that the future of the project very much relies on the future of the court – one about which he is not particularly optimistic. He said: "We need to support these women. We don't want to just do it once in a while for a few years and then stop."

The documentaries will premiere at 7pm on Wednesday January 28 at Meta House, followed by a Q&A session with filmmakers and NGO representatives. Entry is free.

In her new book, Navigating a River by its Bends, Dutch academic Gea Wijers explores the fractured nature of the first-generation returnee (or re-migrant) community in Cambodia. Wijers, who spent two years working as an adviser to the Ministry of Environment and previously self-published Swimming in Uncharted Waters: Reports from Cambodia, interviewed a sample of returnees – those who grew up in Cambodia before leaving because of the Khmer Rouge and civil war and now at least 50 years old – in Cambodia and in diaspora communities in Long Beach in the US and Lyon in France. She found that members of the re-migrant community in Cambodia were often marginalised and internally divided – particularly between French and Cambodian returnees. Many re-migrants were frustrated in their attempts to bring about positive change. She believes the potential benefits that re-migrants could provide Cambodia are being squandered through a lack of government policy and financial support.

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Why haven't Cambodia's returnees worked together more to achieve their goals?
I don't want to believe French and Americans are different, but in practice they are very much so.

A weakness – and I think to most people it's quite clear – of the re-migrant community is that they are not a unity. They're very fractured. They don't really want to be a community, which is why they can't really lobby for themselves; they're not very strong as a group.

It's like there's this animosity and it's a pity because it's a lose-lose situation.

Why is there this schism between French and American Cambodian re-migrants?
I studied the re-migrants at three points. Leaving the country, there were different people going to France as opposed to the US. There was the aristocracy; the French were the colonisers, so often the higher social classes went to France whereas the former military and the large, large groups of peasants went to America, so there was a social difference already.

The second stage is once they're in the country. America had a very different policy. America, a migrant country, wanted them to be economically self-sufficient, but also rewarded them as a community. If they could have shown they were different then they could have got subsidised for holding on to their Cambodian culture while France wanted complete assimilation. So they became French [not French-Cambodian]. The French didn't even register when Cambodians came in, which made people integrate into the societies very differently and take their culture with them very differently.

And when these people go back, they get received in Cambodia very differently and that has been an evolution. At first, of course, the French were welcomed most warmly; it was most familiar where they had been, they used the French language but geopolitically America became stronger and stronger and now most of the money comes from the States so by now the Americans get a warmer welcome than the French do.
So that all helped to create these differences.

What was the result of these different experiences for the first generation of returnees?
It turned out that – relatively speaking – more of the French returnees went into government and more of the Americans went into the NGO sector. Generally, you saw a lot of French people in educational NGOs. In comparison, the American returnees seemed to want to work in human rights NGOs or to really change Cambodia. While the French worked within the system, the Americans tried to work outside.

You refer to some of the re-migrants as "institutional entrepreneurs". What do you mean by that?
Institutional entrepreneurship is a key concept. It's not entrepreneurship as in business, not commercial entrepreneurship. Sam Rainsy to a certain extent – reading his book got me thinking about this. I wanted to look at people who start political parties and NGOs who give up making money and want to change Cambodia and that's a first generation thing. It's about bringing about institutional change, transforming Cambodia. It's usually people that have retired.

Where there any really surprising things that came out of your research?
I asked the people in the overseas communities to point out the most successful re-migrants and one of the people whose NGO has done best is actually a former Khmer Rouge supporter. Which is very counter-intuitive, because despite all of the rhetoric about democratisation, idealistic people are not very successful here. They speak a different language to the government, and if you don't get along with the government you're not going to go anywhere.

What are the concrete useful things to have come out of your research?
We need to get these returnees together, to show what they can do for the country, like [diaspora networking organisation] Anvaya is trying to do. There needs to be policy changes to make Cambodia attractive for these returnees – for all different groups of returnees, to come back. It's sharing information too. One of the things Anvaya wants to do is be a platform to share job opportunities. Investment opportunities. There needs to be a real diaspora policy. Now, if you're from overseas, you're considered a foreigner. In Rwanda they call their diaspora the sixth region of Africa. You should be considered part of the Cambodian nation wherever you are. That will maybe bring about a dynamic where people view the diaspora more positively and, even better, the diaspora sees itself more positively. That's the thing that really got me started, these people filled with good ideas and money and lots of stuff, going back home, and a year later they would be utterly demotivated after not being supported or accepted. Lost. Aside from all the economic stuff, to not know who you are is the most devastating thing for a human being. And it's not necessary.

Navigating a River By Its Bends is available from Monument Books, Norodom Boulevard for $39.50.

Director Rithy Panh is taking Cambodia to the Oscars for the first time. The Missing Picture, which tells the story of the Khmer Rouge regime using clay figurines, has been nominated for best foreign language film. The rival entries are offerings from Italy, Belgium, Denmark and Palestine. In the weeks leading up to the ceremony on March 2, we will look at each rival in turn and assess its chances of taking home the gong. This week, Poppy McPherson reviews Italy's entry, The Great Beauty.

At the start of Paolo Sorrentino's The Great Beauty (La Grande Bellezza), a Japanese tourist snaps a picture of the Roman skyline on a glorious morning. Then he dies. Whether it's from fatigue or some kind of aesthetic meltdown is left up to the viewer.

The film then prances into a dizzying whirl through the parties, passions and hideous pretensions of modern Rome as seen through the eyes of ageing hero Jep Gambardella (Toni Servillo).

A 65-year-old journalist, Jep wears sharp suits and a cartoonish mask of melancholy as he reflects on his life at the vortex of the city's upper class social scene. Even the benches he sits on are made from Italian marble. Jep is set up to mirror Rome itself, the seat of an empire fallen into debauched but joyful excess, as is made clear early on, at his Eurotrashy birthday party: an obese, painfully botoxed woman bursts out of a cream cake crying "Happy Birthday Rome", prompting onlookers to deride her as Lorena, the formerly successful TV presenter "now in complete mental and physical decline". So too is the collection of Jeps' reluctantly ageing friends for whom he hosts Bacchanalian parties. "We are all on the brink of despair," Jep reflects in typically Chekhovian fashion.

Filmmaker Sorrentino (Il Divo) equally mocks and revels in the pretensions of the social circle, which draws in the city's religious leaders. In a nightmarish sequence, a botox technician is worshipped like a tribal god. A cardinal dishes out cooking tips like Hail Marys. Hilarity ensues when a 104-year-old female saint arrives on the scene, a sequence which culminates in a group of partygoers searching for the decrepit woman when she disappears after dinner: "Where did that bitch get to?"

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But for all the humour, there are moments of exquisite pathos: a coked-up Lorena is seen alone at the end of a party gasping as a drop of blood runs from her nostril. A child coerced into performance art by her parents screams as she throws paint on the canvas. Jep's lover Romana, a stripper newly enfolded into the lives of the rich and fabulous, leaves in disgust. "That girl was crying," she says. "That girl earns millions," Gambardella deadpans.

Beautiful even when it's ugly, but best when it's sumptuous, the film delights in languorous shots of the cityscape: the sun sets over the Colosseum and glints off the Tiber. One night, Jep and Romana are given the keys to one of Rome's most beloved buildings, and wander through halls of ancient sculptures. Italy's extraordinary history is one of the great beauties of the film, alongside sex and an enchanting opera soundtrack. The message is clear. This is Rome: sometimes revolting, always intoxicating, and resolutely one of the world's greatest cities.

Verdict: Tipped to be the front-runner. Sorrentino practices a visual artistry that is unequalled among the nominees. The soundtrack, too, is masterful. It's no surprise he took home the Golden Globe for best foreign language film earlier this month, often an indication of Oscar-winners. The film comes at a time when Italy's political life has never seemed more ugly, so a successor to La Dolce Vita to remind everyone of its glory may seem prudent. But this is cinema for cinema's sake – a serious subject matter like Panh's might just edge it out.

Although an Oxfam study released last week claimed Cambodians to be the healthiest eaters in the world, obesity in the Kingdom is on the rise. What are the reasons for this, and how do the figures correlate? Bennett Murray found out.

From packaged Thai sweets to Whoppers from Burger King, which just opened its second outlet in Phnom Penh this week, unhealthy snacks have become more and more accessible in the Kingdom. Between 2003 and 2008 alone, imports of soft drinks and sweets into Cambodia rose by a staggering 5,041 per cent and 24,334 per cent respectively, according to the World Health Organisation (WHO). And along with the Whoppers and Haribo has come their less sugary cousin: widening waistlines and serious health problems.

According to a 2012 study, the percentage of Cambodians who are overweight jumped from nine per cent to 14 per cent for women and from seven per cent to 10 per cent among men between 2000 and 2008. Another study, conducted in 2010 by the Ministry of Health in collaboration with the WHO, found that 15.4 per cent of the country is overweight or obese.

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Khims Sam Ath, WHO technical officer for non-communicable diseases in Cambodia, said that the proliferation of unhealthy food in the Kingdom could cause a major crisis.

"This is one of the causes for alarm of expected increase in the prevalence of obesity in the future," he said.

In addition to the influx of unhealthy food, Cambodians have stopped moving around so much, taking up sedentary jobs in the city as opposed to rural work, said Ath.

"Globalisation and urbanisation make people tend to change their lifestyle – unhealthy diet and lack of physical activity lead to the development of people being overweight or obese," he said.

"At the end they are living with chronic diseases such as heart disease, strokes, cancer, diabetes," Ath said. According to Ministry of Health data, 5.6 per cent of Cambodian adults living in cities had diabetes in 2010.

One of those is Hok Bet, a 34-year-old security guard in Phnom Penh, who was diagnosed with diabetes last October. The disease was linked to his consumption of sugary drinks and fatty snacks.

The first symptom of diabetes is the frequent need to urinate, but Bet did not think to go to a doctor until the situation got so bad that poor blood circulation caused parts of his feet to turn purple. Without proper blood flow, even small cuts could lead to gangrene and amputation. Fortunately, he went to the anti-diabetes NGO MoPoTsyo where he now receives treatment and peer counselling.

"Before, I ate imported Thai treats and drank a lot of soft drinks. If I didn't have diabetes, I would still very much like to have those," he said with a smile.

Since his diagnosis in October, a strict diet of brown rice and no saturated fat has enabled Bet to shed three kilograms. He also exercises for at least 30 minutes every day, in accordance with the doctor's orders.

While obesity is often associated with affluence – developed countries still have the highest proportion of sufferers – lowly paid Cambodian workers such as Bet, who earns $70 a month, can now afford a steady stream of cheap, calorie-packed snacks, although no studies have yet broken down overweight and obesity statistics by income in Cambodia.

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An Oxfam study released last week announced that Cambodians are the healthiest eaters in the world with regards to obesity and diabetes risk. It added that Cambodia suffers from a shortage of quality food, thus preventing widespread obesity from emerging in the first place.

But it is not contradictory for a country to suffer a food shortage while simultaneously facing an emerging wave of people who are overweight or obese, said Oxfam representative Anna Ratcliff.

"The index illustrates a broken global food system, in which consumers suffer from both under-nutrition and obesity – a situation which can be often found in the same countries or communities."

According to a study released this month by the Overseas Development Institute (ODI), there are now almost twice as many overweight or obese people in developing countries as in developed ones.

ODI research fellow Steve Wiggins said that Cambodia appears to be no exception to the trend, which will likely continue as Cambodia continues to develop economically.

"The rates and numbers are rising – and one might expect them to rise further with economic growth under the forces of higher income, more sedentary lives, and the increasing availability of cheap, quick-to-prepare processed foods and meals – too many are rich in fats, oils and sugars."

It seems that part of the problem may be cultural, as there is a perception among Cambodian men that mild obesity is sexy, though the same is not true for women.

"The idea for Cambodian people is completely different from Western people. Here, when [men] are a little obese, they say, 'oh, handsome!'" said Dr Yom An, a former researcher at the Institute for Public Health who now works for Handicap International.

To complicate matters, some scientists believe that Cambodians are susceptible to diseases linked to obesity, such as diabetes and hypertension, at lower body mass indices (BMI) than Caucasians. In a paper co-authored by An, he demonstrated the need to define overweight and obesity at a lower BMI level when diagnosing Cambodians.

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"We found that Asian people have more fat compared to [Westerners], who have more muscle than us," An said, adding that studies from other countries in Asia-Pacific show similar results. If a lower BMI cutoff of 23 instead of 25 is used, said An, the overweight rate in Cambodia would be 18.5 and 21 percent for men and women respectively.

The problem is worsened, added An, by general apathy towards non-communicable diseases in Cambodian society.

"We focus mostly on infectious diseases like HIV, tuberculosis, dengue fever, something like that. But for non-communicable diseases- like obesity or hypertension- it's not really the priority for the government."

Sam Ath said that the problem is also a result of economic development without corresponding legal changes. Although specific policy changes, such as advertisement restrictions on junk food, are not yet forthcoming, Sam Ath said that an action plan in the works will create institutional cohesiveness across government ministries to combat non-communicable diseases in general.

The food industry also has a role to play, said Sam Ath, by cutting down sugar, fat and salt content, making health foods more affordable and responsibly marketing junk food away from children.

For An, the key for people in Cambodia to combat being overweight or obese is education.

"We have to inform people of the cause of obesity – lack of exercise, not properly eating food, especially fast food. If people understand that, I think it is the best strategy to reduce obesity in Cambodia."

But he suspects that the problems will be ignored until they become endemic.

"The economy is still growing, and people will pay more money [for food]. We give value to people, especially men, who are overweight. I think that obesity will continue based on our current strategy, because we do not pay attention."

In Bet's case, his education arrived too late to prevent the onset of diabetes. But the imminent threat of loss of life or limb, Bet said, has scared him into diligently keeping with the healthier parts of the food pyramid.

"If I eat from the top of the food pyramid, the future will not be good," he said.

Burger King did not respond to request for comment in time for publication.

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The Jorng Jam exhibition – one of a series of events in this month's multi-site Our City Festival of urban art, ideas and architecture – uses old family photos to tell personal stories and inspire new art exploring the important interrelationships between family members. Jorng Jam means "remember" in Khmer. Artist Kong Vollak, filmmaker Neang Kavich and photographers Neak Sophal and Kim Hak collected a series of snaps from the 1950s and 1960s and interviewed family members and then used the material collected to create the new artworks. Here's a taste of the exhibition, which will be on at the Bophana Audiovisual Resource Centre opening on Saturday, January 25, at 3pm and running until Sunday, February 8. Will Jackson reports.

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Neak Sophal
Photographer Neak Sophal chose not to investigate her own family's history and memories because all their photographs were destroyed in a house fire in 2005. Instead, she interviewed her teacher from the Royal University of Fine Arts, Chan Vitharin. "I asked him to select a few of his old photographs then interviewed him about why they were important," she said. The photos that Vitharin chose all relate in some way to his journey in the art of photography: his first attempts using a camera, the moment he decided to study photography overseas and a photograph of his late father that, after beginning the Jorng Jam project, made Vitharin consider more the role of photography as documentation rather than art. "After I interviewed Vitharin I was really interested in what he told me about his work and life; living in a good family, his father as a teacher and mother as a housewife," Sophal said. After she had finished interviewing her mentor, Sophal took a single new photograph that spoke about her thoughts on the topic.

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Kim Hak
Born two years after the Khmer Rouge were expelled from Phnom Penh, photographer Kim Hak, 32, grew up listening to his family talk about the time before and during Pol Pot's genocidal regime. He said the Jorng Jam exhibition was an opportunity to go back and probe a little deeper into the stories. Kim used a series of objects as well as photographs as a starting point as he interviewed his parents and elder siblings about their memories. "[The objects] are very intimate," he said. "Through them, I have learned some historical stories. They become to be very important sources and inspiration." Kim said he titled the project Alive because he believes it's important to ensure that memories and stories don't die or become lost. On display in the exhibition will be new photographs of each of the objects with a "clue" about an accompanying story or memory. For example, along with a photograph of a perfume bottle he found as a child – which may have been buried by the previous owner as they were forced to evacuate by the Khmer Rouge – is a handful of sand. Kim said that he planned to expand on the work he begun on Jorng Jam for a solo exhibition down the track, delving deeper into his family's stories and incorporating more photographs.

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Cambodian cuisine is far more diverse than many give it credit for. Each region has its own special dishes that remain largely unheard of elsewhere in the country. Even fish amok, despite being promoted as a national dish in the tourist industry, is actually a Battambang specialty. But tracking down the more obscure dishes in Phnom Penh, where restaurants frequently focus on only a handful of well-known options, has become easier thanks to Khmer Booloom.

The restaurant, which reopened this month after a revamp, is located in a chic building on Street 63. It forgoes a traditional Cambodian atmosphere for a minimalist Western décor, with plain brick walls in the restaurant interior. The options, however, are as Cambodian as they come.

The menu is broken up by regions: central (including Phnom Penh), Angkor, the coast, and the Northeast. Options range from fermented fish with pork intestine ($6.50) to stir fried red eel with curry paste ($6.50).

Eager to try the "hill tribe" options, we started our feast with a bowl of trav paiy pornorng ($6.50). With no English translation on the menu or adequate explanation from our server, we went into the dish blind knowing only that it'd be some sort of chicken soup. It turned out to be a lovely lemongrass chicken soup with winter melon slices with only a vague resemblance to anything I had ever tried before in Southeast Asia. The closest thing that came to mind was a lemongrass chicken curry I had tried on a Takeo farm on Khmer New Year, but even that would be a stretched comparison.

Our next dish, khnorp fish ($6.50), came from Siem Reap province. The menu explained that it was a baked parcel of fish with Khmer spices and herbs (English translations were sporadically provided). A bit like amok, it turned out, but with much larger portions and a citrusy aroma.

The taste was excellent, but the cooks had failed to remove the tiny fish spines that proliferated the dish. I poked fun at my dining companion when one got lodged in her throat until I myself found myself in the same predicament – conversation for the next ten minutes was punctured with mutual coughs and throat clearings. Fortunately, the bones were much too small and soft to pose much risk. It dawned on us later that we were probably meant to chew them.

The next dish was red tilapia ($8.50), a freshwater fish native to North Africa but commonly available in Southeast Asia. We ordered it steamed and smothered with chili sauce, although it also comes fried with the options of black bean sauce, soya sauce, or sweet and sour sauce. It was fine and tender, much the way a decently prepared fish should be, although the numerous sharp bones required some care. To top off our culinary adventure, we also ordered some relatively boring BBQ chicken wings ($4.50). A bit bland, but quite tasty when dipped into soya sauced mixed with red chili's. Other Western options, such as US rib-eye steak ($18.50), is also available.

Khmer Booloom's flavours are not for everyone. Unlike some other Khmer restaurants in the city, many recipes seem transplanted straight from the provinces without being mingled with international influences. What results is an authentic sample of rural Cambodia that is interesting, complex and thoroughly strange to the uninitiated. The northeastern portion of the menu was particularly curious – even a Cambodian friend said the strong herbs tasted odd. But it is worth stopping by to get a little culinary education, and you never know, you might get a taste for it.

Khmer Booloom is open from 6am to 10pm and can be found at #209 Street 63.