The Yellow Shirt and My Poetry

Last Saturday in Siem Reap, I wore a yellow shirt. Tight, a little too tight. It is older than me. This blog post, I write about her, the yellow shirt, and my poetry and the performance.

Photo credit: YENG Chheangly

After three days of cultural leadership with Cambodian Living Arts at Batia Sarem Gallery, I thought to give myself a leisure​ time after hard work. The event was organised by poet YENG Chheangly, my co-founder of Slap Paka Khmer (Collaborative Khmer Writers) and the Mirage Contemporary Arts Space.

Sokhoeun, me, and JB: featured readers (Photo Credit: Pheak Keo)

I chose to read four poems. All are in Khmer. I didn’t really have time to translate them into English. I will try to write a little bit about it here and also will share the story of the yellow shirt.

The first poem is about me who sees myself travelling from Phnom Penh to a province. In the car and along the way, I witness people buying and paying for threads happily. They were singing, dancing, and telling jokes. Lives go on with the thread on their every mouth including mine.

The second one is about someone whose soft hand guiding me toward a direction. I was scared but I could not escape because when I tried the hand turns from soft to rough and scary. The third is about learning to love my self. Growing up, I witnessed two burned scars on my stomach. I felt so embarrassed and disappointed with myself. I explored this with my parents and learned that the scars were a result of life, death, and love. The fourth one was a simple romance poem.

Photo Credit: Yeng Chheangly

I kept thinking about choosing what to wear for the reading and of course how to read. I read my poems many times and try to find a theme. One of the poems especially the third one is about my mother. To save me from death, she brought me to a Kruu Khmer (traditional healer). And I have been in love with one of her traditional shirt. It is yellow. Old. Out of fashion. It is something many girls would not wear out of shame. However, I love it and I want to bring it to life again.

(Photo credit: YENG Chheangly)

I was reading a translation text in English for the award-winning poet Chin Meas. I called him the Fried Noodle Poet since he sells noodles every night in Siem Reap to make a living. Being a poet is tough.

All readers in one shot (Photo credit: Sinath)
Chheangly introduces the event and feature readers! Great job.
One of Sokhoeun’s readings is a letter he wrote to an ex-girlfriend in 2001. (Photo credit: Yeng Chheangly)

When I decided to wear it, I had to face another challenge: self-doubt. I grew unwanted fat on my body. With this, women would hide it because we believe it does not look good and it is not a beauty standard. After thinking for a while and talked to a friend, I made a final decision to wear it. Of course, I was so much conscious about my body. I was afraid that it shows my belly or it does not suit with my age. Turned 41 last week, I believe women are repeatedly told to wear clothes their age. I was all about shy and nervous. However, there is one thing I needed to be clear with myself. As a feminist, should I worry this much? I asked myself. If I don’t love my self, who would? If I don’t embrace my body, who would do? Since I am one of the people who promote body-positive, should I be worried and nervous about my body? I should not. So I wore it and I was completely happy that I did.

Photo credit: Milya

The yellow shirt belongs to my mum. I initially thought that it might be around the 80s because I used to see her wear it when I was a child. However, she told me that it was since 1974. She wore it a few time before the Khmer Rouge time. Since she loves it so much, she carried and hid it with her during the civil war and the genocide. I asked her if she was afraid that she would get caught she said at her village, it is not an issue as long as she does not wear it. I don’t remember since when I started to love the yellow top. I remember that I wore it to a film festival but I was really shy that I wrapped it with a shawl. Not this time. The only thing I felt a little uncomfortable is it is too tight. lol.

Generally, it was a great event. I was glad to hear that the audience loved the readings a lot. Most said it was not their expectation. They expected to hear just the readings but in fact it was a lot more than readings.

Please enjoy a few more photos below. Any familiar faces?

The artworks you have seen on the wall are of a unique artist Khchao Touch currently exhibited at Mirage Gallery, Siem Reap.

មហោស្រពសិល្បៈ និងបរិស្ថាន លើកទីបី

អតីតអ្នកទទួលអាហារូបករណ៍ទស្សនវប្បធម៌ សួស ស៊ីណាត និង អាន រស្មី និងក្រុមការងារកំពុងប្រារព្ធមហោស្រពសិល្បៈ និងបរិស្ថាន ដែលប្រព្រឹតទៅនៅខេត្តបាត់ដំបង រយៈពេល៥ថ្ងៃ គឺចាប់ពីថ្ងៃទី ១០ ដល់ ទី ១៥ ខែសីហានេះ។ មហោស្រពនេះជាលើកទីបី បន្ទាប់ពីរៀបចំមហោស្រពនេះ ដើមឡើយជាផ្នែកមួយនៃកម្មវិធីអាហារូបករណ៍ទស្សនវប្បធម៌ប្រចាំឆ្នាំ ២០១៧។ ដោយសារការស្រឡាញ់ និងយល់ឃើញថា បរិស្ថានត្រូវការពារ និងយកចិត្តទុកដាក់ ស៊ីណាតបានដឹកនាំ​ និងគៀងគរថវិការៀបចំមហោស្រពនេះបន្តរហូតរាល់ឆ្នាំ មកទល់ពេលនេះ។

ស៊ីណាត និងរស្មី (រូបថត៖ គាត សុគីម)

សិក្ខាសាលានេះមានកម្មវិធីជាច្រើនដូចជា ដាំដើមឈើ ពិព័រណ៍ ការបង្កើតតន្រ្តីថ្មី សិក្ខាសាលាបរិស្ថាន និងការសំដែងសិល្បៈទស្សនីយភាពផងដែរ។ អ្វីដែលពិសេសនោះគឺមានការចូលរួមពី មីង ជាវ ចង ដែលជាវីរជនសិល្បៈខេត្តឧត្តរមានជ័យ បានអញ្ជើញចូលរួមផងដែរ។ មហោស្រពសិល្បៈដើម្បីសន្តិភាពកាលពីឆ្នាំ ២០១៩ បានជ្រើសរើស មីង ចង និងវីរសិល្បករចំនួន២៤រូបផ្សេងទៀត​ ជាវីរជនសិល្បៈតំណាងខេត្តនីមួយៗ ក្នុងគោលបំណងគោរពដឹងគុណ ដល់ការខិតខំ ជំនះរាល់ការលំបាក ដើម្បីចូលរួមថែរក្សាសិល្បៈវប្បធម៌របស់កម្ពុជា។ មីងចង និងវង់តន្រ្តីគាត់នឹងសំដែងជូនសាធារណជនទស្សនានៅរសៀលថ្ងៃព្រហស្បតិ៍ ចាប់ពីម៉ោង ៣ រសៀលនៅក្នុងបរិវេណសមាគមហ្វារពន្លឺសិល្បៈ ដែលជាទីតាំងធំសម្រាប់មហោស្រពនេះផងដែរ។

មីងចង និងម៉ាសមុខ ថតជាមួយតន្រ្តីករ!
មីងចងកំពុងហាត់សម ជាមួយវង់តន្រ្តីអញ្ជើញមកពីខេត្តកំពង់ធំ និងបាត់ដំបង ក្រោមការដឹកនាំភ្លេងពី វ៉ាន់ថាន់។

ដោយសារមហោស្រពនេះប្រព្រឹតទៅក្នុងអំឡុងវីរុសកូរ៉ូណា អ្នករៀបចំកម្មវិធីមានវិធានការនានា សម្រាប់បង្ការ ដូចជាទឹកអាល់កុលសម្រាប់លាងដៃ ម៉ាសមុខ និងវាស់កម្តៅជាដើម។ សូមអញ្ជើញចូលរួម និងថែរក្សាសុខភាពផង។

Poster designed by: RY Monisovanya

Photo Credit: UNG Kakada

The Vietnamese Uncle

Whenever he met us, he smiled and slightly lowered his head while he was taking off his hat as a sign of showing respect. He often did that when he greeted my parents. He was not one of my Cambodian uncles. He was a Vietnamese soldier who was stationed in our village during the Vietnamese occupation of Cambodia after the fall of the Khmer Rouge regime. He was probably in his late 20s or early 30s, tall, fair, and thin. He had an honest and sincere facial expression. I was about 8 or 9 years old back then. All of my friends called him Chu, a Vietnamese word for ‘uncle’. My village is ‘Potakouy Village’, Lolok Sar Commune, Sampov Meas district, Pursat province while he was stationed in a village next to my village divided by a railway. I remember him until now and tears often swelled up in my eyes when I am wondering about him.

The most memorable picture of him is how he waved at me from the rice field from an ox cart. Behind him was full of recently cultivated rice. His hut was built by mostly straw and some small wooden wall. The hut was facing the railway. He shared the little hut with one or two of his friends. I usually played along the not so busy railway that divided my village, which was on the north side, and his village, which was located on the south side. He was working in the rice field helping villagers transport their rice.  The way he waved looked as if he saw his own children returning from school. It was heartfelt for a child to receive such a sweet, welcoming smile and exciting wave.

We used to hear many stories of misbehaved Vietnamese soldiers, which made us hate them and scared of them. However, with his wide smile on his lips, the Chu made the opposite effect. Once in a while, he invited us for a feast. It was great fun!

One fine day, he came to our family home. I did not know what he told my parents, but I remember being told to dress up. I happily put on my best student uniform: a white shirt and a black or blue skirt. My parents might have told that Chu wanted to bring me to a photography shop to take us both a photo. I hopped on an old bicycle with him as the driver. On the way, I am sure he must have told me something but I didn’t remember. Or perhaps he told me in Vietnamese language which I don’t understand? I only remember I got a mixed feeling. I wasn’t sure whether it was an exciting time or an anxious one. And I might have known that he was about to leave our village. Forever. Or no, not exactly. Maybe I did not believe such a lifelong separation could happen for someone that I knew, especially this ‘Chu’.

I went along with him. The photography shop was about one kilometre from our house. At the shop, we were told to go inside the studio. It was a small, dark room with a background made of a wide cloth with a sailing boat, which looked like it was about to hit a mountain. I can’t tell whether it is colour or black and white. It must have been a cool artwork for that time. Although it was about ten years after the genocide, the war had not stopped yet. This memory had been buried for quite a while until one day I found this photo again hidden in one of the family albums.

This is the photo of him and me.

This is him whom I called Chu, the Vietnamese Chu!

In the photo, I am standing between his legs. We are both wearing white shirts. The difference is that my shirt fitted me very well with my skinny body, while his shirt was rather loose and a little bigger than his body. Neither of us are smiling, but I can see there is a little expression on his face. I looked a little worried. He is sitting on a small chair, putting his left hand on my waist and I put my left arm on his left foot. We are both almost expressionless as if we were facing a great uncertainty of the universe.

That is the last memory of him since 1989, which was the year most of the Vietnamese troops were ordered to leave Cambodia. I have no idea how the photo was left with me now. I didn’t remember one bit how did he leave. I didn’t remember if he came to say goodbye. I didn’t remember what did I had felt at that time. Though I do not have this memory at all, I have always wanted to believe that he came to our house while I was playing around the village. He might have handed the photograph to my parents and then said a proper goodbye. I don’t remember if I knew that he was going to leave. Forever.

I remembered I was standing along the National Road number 5 with thousands of students and villagers to see off the Vietnamese soldiers. After a decade stationed in Cambodia, those soldiers were told to withdraw. I also remembered they looked really happy and probably high in excitement for being able to return home and meet their family and loved ones. I looked for him everywhere but there was not a single trace of him. There were so many trucks full of cheerful soldiers. I kept thinking he might be in one of those trucks. I left one truck to the next hoping I could see him once more. There was no luck at all.

I remember I bought a pack of grilled bananas and handed it to an unknown soldier. He happily received them and gave me a beautiful smile as if I were a twenty-year-old charming Khmer woman who had just given him a love potion. That young Vietnamese soldier was not him. Unfortunately.

After that day, we still played in the rice field where he used to live and work. I do not remember if I missed him or not. Maybe not. Maybe yes. I only remember that life went on.

Now as a middle-aged woman, I look at the photo of a very thin girl standing between the legs of a man whose name she does not know. What she remembers is that he must be the ‘Chu’ who left her without a trace since 1989.

In 2017, I met Tran Luong, an independent performance and visual artist from Hanoi, Vietnam. He was invited to Siem Reap and be a mentor for CLA’s Living Arts Fellows. When Luong saw us, a group of artists, who were waiting for him, he waved his right hand just a little above his eyebrow, lowered his head a bit and smiled. It was a deja vu feeling and a wakeup call from a trace that I had intentionally buried three decades ago. After I introduced myself, I observed Luong and I started to wonder how old would he be now? Where does he live? Or if he remembers me like I remember him just now? Whether he is still alive?

I finally told Luong about my story at lunch before he flew back to Hanoi. We ordered Banh Xiao, a Khmer version of soft yellowish pancake with fresh vegetables and fish sauce. The calm expression on his face made me feel comfortable telling him the story. However, I was quite aware that I had to skip some parts and shorten it because I was almost in tears when I was telling the story. Luong was truly touched as if he had been told a bittersweet love story.

I still have hope that I might find him one day. Some days I think to myself, although I might not meet him again, the emotions and flood of memories which come and go are enough for me to go on with my everyday life. I end this story with a slight hope and a sweet memory. Maybe one day if I am lucky enough I might meet the ‘Chu’ again. Who knows?


តើសិល្បៈមានគុណតម្លៃអ្វីខ្លះមកលើសង្គមមួយ? តើគុណតម្លៃ ឬគុណប្រយោជន៍នៃសិល្បៈ ត្រូវបានគេស្គាល់ ឬដឹងឮគ្រប់គ្រាន់ឬនៅ? តើសិល្បករបានខិតខំបង្កើនទំហំនៃគុណតម្លៃសិល្បៈរបស់ពួកគេទៅទស្សនិកជន ឬសាធារណជនប៉ុណ្ណា ដើម្បីពួកគេបានទទួលគុណតម្លៃពីសិល្បៈ? ក្នុងប្លុកនេះ ខ្ញុំនឹងចែករំលែកការយល់ដឹងខ្លះៗទាក់ទងនឹងគុណតម្លៃសិល្បៈ។

តើអ្វីទៅជាតម្លៃ (value)?

  • គុណតម្លៃគឺជាប្រយោជន៍ ឬសារៈសំខាន់ ដែលយើងបានទទួលពីវត្ថុ មនុស្ស ទីកន្លែង គម្រោង ឬអង្គការ ឬបទពិសោធន៍ណាមួយ។ ឧទាហរណ៍៖ សៀវភៅប្រលោមលោកនេះ មានប្រយោជន៍ដល់ការគិតរបស់ខ្ញុំទាក់ទងនឹងសមភាពយេ៉នឌ័រ។
  • គុណតម្លៃនាំផ្លូវយើង ឬកំណត់សកម្មភាព និងអកប្បកិរិយារបស់យើង។ ឧទាហរណ៍៖ បើយើងឲ្យតម្លៃដល់ច្បាប់ចរាចរណ៍ នោះយើងនឹងគោរពច្បាប់ចរាចរណ៍យ៉ាងខ្ជាប់ខ្ជួន។
  • គុណតម្លៃគឺគំនិតគោល ឬបទដ្ឋានដែលកាត់សេចក្តីលើសកម្មភាពរបស់យើង ក៏ដូចជាសកម្មភាពអ្នកដទៃ គម្រោង អង្គការ ស្ថាប័ន ហេតុការណាមួយ ឬវត្ថុអ្វីមួយ។ ឧទាហរណ៍៖ បើយើងជឿលើសមភាពសង្គម ហើយបើមានអង្គការណាមួយផ្តល់ការយកចិត្តទុកដាក់ទៅលើក្រុមណាមួយ ហើយមិនយកចិត្តទុកដាក់ដល់ក្រុមគោលដៅណាមួយ នោះយើង (ដោយផ្អែកលើគុណតម្លៃរបស់យើង ដែលផ្តោតលើសមភាព ឬភាពស្មើសិទ្ធគ្នា) នឹងវិនិច្ឆ័យអង្គការនោះថា អង្គការនេះមិនបានបំពេញការងាររបស់ខ្លួនឲ្យបានស្មើភាពគ្នាទេ!

គុណតម្លៃសិល្បៈចែកចេញជាពីរគឺ៖ គុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុង (Intrinsic value) និង គុណតម្លៃឧបករណ៍ (Instrumental value)។

គុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុង (Intrinsic value) គឺជាគុណតម្លៃទាំងឡាយណា ដែលយើងទទួលបានប្រយោជន៍ ឬសារៈសំខាន់របស់វា ដោយផ្ទាល់ បើទោះជាវាគ្មានប្រយោជន៍ ឬជាឧបករណ៍ដើម្បីឈានទៅសម្រេចការអ្វីផ្សេងទៀតក៏ដោយ។ គុណតម្លៃដែលយើងទទួលបានពីការទៅមើលពិព័រណ៍ ឬការសំដែងសិល្បៈមួយអាចជាអារម្មណ៍រំភើប រីករាយ ជួបជុំជាមួយមិត្តភក្តិ ឬទទួលបានគំនិតមួយ ឬច្រើនពីការសំដែងនោះ។ ទាំងនោះគឺជាគុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុង ដែលទស្សនិកជនទទួលបានពីសិល្បៈ។ អារម្មណ៍រំភើប រីករាយ ជួបជុំជាមួយមិត្តភក្តិ ឬការទទួលបានគំនិតណាមួយនោះ ដែលជាគុណតម្លៃ ឬប្រយោជន៍នេះ មិនមែនជាឧបករណ៍សម្រាប់ទទួលបានផលអ្វីមួយទៀតទេ ព្រោះគុណតម្លៃនេះវាពាក់ព័ន្ធនឹងផ្លូវចិត្ត អារម្មណ៍ ទំនាក់ទំនងសង្គមរបស់ទស្សនិកជន ឬសិល្បករ។

គុណតម្លៃឧបករណ៍ (Instrumental value) គឺជាគុណតម្លៃទាំងឡាយណា​ ដែលគេប្រើដើម្បីសម្រេចបានគោលដៅផ្សេងទៀត។ ឧទាហរណ៍១៖ សិល្បៈមានតម្លៃអប់រំ (educational value) ព្រោះគេប្រើសិល្បៈដើម្បីបញ្រ្ជាបអត្ថន័យអប់រំ។ សិល្បៈមានគុណតម្លៃសេដ្ឋកិច្ច ព្រោះសិល្បៈអាចទាញរកចំណូលជូនសិល្បករ និងប្រទេសជាតិ។ លុយជាគុណតម្លៃឧបករណ៍ ព្រោះមនុស្សអាចប្រើប្រាស់លុយ ដើម្បីទិញផ្ទះ សម្ភារប្រើប្រាស់នានា។ ឧទាហរណ៍២៖ សិល្បករ ឬមេភូមិបានបង្កើតគម្រោងបន្តុកស្នាដៃចម្លាក់ថ្មីៗ (សិល្បៈ) ជាច្រើននៅតាមផ្លូវមួយខ្សែ ដែលនាំឲ្យអ្នកភូមិនោះមានការងារធ្វើ និងមានចំណូលពីទេសចរ ដែលនាំគ្នាទៅលេងនៅទីនេះ ដើម្បីបានទស្សនាចម្លាក់ថ្មីៗនោះ។ នេះជាគុណតម្លៃឧបករណ៍មួយ ដែលគេប្រើប្រាស់សិល្បៈ ដើម្បីជួយលើកកម្ពស់ជីវភាពរបស់ប្រជាជននៅក្នុងភូមិមួយ។ តើអ្នកដឹងទេថា ប្រទេសកូរ៉េខាងត្បូង ទាញបានផលចំណេញពីសិល្បៈវប្បធម៌គេមួយឆ្នាំប៉ុន្មានលានដុល្លារ? តើនៅកម្ពុជា សិល្បៈទាញបានគុណតម្លៃសេដ្ឋកិច្ចប៉ុន្មាន?

គុណតម្លៃទាំងពីរនេះ ពេលខ្លះ គេមិនអាចបែងចែកវាបានទេ។ វាតែងតែមានភាពពាក់ព័ន្ធគ្នា។ គុណតម្លៃខ្លះ អាចជាគុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុងផង និងជាគុណតម្លៃឧបករណ៍ផង។ ឧទាហរណ៍ មិត្តភាពជាគុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុង ព្រោះមិត្តភាពនាំឲ្យយើងមានភាពកក់ក្តៅ សប្បាយចិត្ត មានអារម្មណ៍ថាយើងមានអ្នកស្រឡាញ់រាប់អាន…។ល។ តែមិត្តភាពអាចនាំឲ្យមនុស្សមានសុខភាពល្អ អាចឈានទៅដល់ការមិនមានជម្ងឺ អាចមានពេលធ្វើការងារ ទទួលបានប្រាក់កម្រៃ…។ល។

ភាគច្រើនគេយល់ថា គុណតម្លៃហិរញ្ញវត្ថុ (គុណតម្លៃឧបករណ៍ (Instrumental value)) នៃសិល្បៈសំខាន់ជាងគុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុង (Instrumental value) ព្រោះវាពាំនាំមកនូវការរីកចម្រើននូវវិស័យសេដ្ឋកិច្ច។ ហេតុផលមួយ ដែលគេយល់បែបនេះ គឺអាចមកពីភាពងាយវាស់វែងបាននៃគុណតម្លៃនេះ។ អ្នកស្រាវជ្រាវអាចគណនារកឃើញនូវគុណតម្លៃសេដ្ឋកិច្ចនៃសិល្បៈជូនប្រទេសមួយបានដោយងាយស្រួល ព្រោះគេអាចគណនាជាលុយបាន។ តែគេពិបាកវាស់វែងគុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុងណាស់ ព្រោះវាស្ថិតនៅក្នុងមនុស្សម្នាក់ៗ បទពិសោធន៍រៀងៗខ្លួន។ តែគេភ្លេចថា សុខភាពល្អរបស់ពលរដ្ឋ ភាពស្រស់ស្រាយប្រកបដោយសុភមង្គល អារម្មណ៍រីករាយដែលទទួលបានពីជួបជុំមិត្តភក្តិ ចិត្តស្ងប់ ចេះគិតគូរពីរឿងសង្គម ដែលពួកគេបានទទួលបានពីសិល្បៈក៏មានគុណតម្លៃខ្លាំង ហើយអាចនាំឲ្យប្រជាជនមានសុខភាពល្អ មានទំនាក់ទំនងល្អ មានសន្តិភាព ដែលអាចនាំឲ្យពួកគេអាចធ្វើការងារបានល្អ មានប្រសិទ្ធភាពខ្ពស់ រកចំណូលបានល្អ ដែលប្រការទាំងនេះមានសក្តានុពលនាំឲ្យមានគុណតម្លៃសេដ្ឋកិច្ចផងដែរ។

ដោយមានការយល់ឃើញបែបបេះ គេសង្កេតឃើញថា នៅក្នុងគោលនយោបាយវប្បធម៌ ភាគច្រើន គេសង្កេតឃើញថា បានផ្តោតការយកចិត្តទុកដាក់ទៅលើគុណតម្លៃឧបករណ៍​នៃសិល្បៈ (Instrumental value in the arts) តែភ្លេចគិតគូរឲ្យបានស៊ីជម្រៅទៅលើគុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុងនៃសិល្បៈ (Intrinsic value in the arts)។ ថ្មីៗនេះ អ្នកសិក្សាស្រាវជ្រាវសិល្បៈ បានទាមទារឲ្យមានការយកចិត្តទុកដាក់ទៅលើគុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុងនៃសិល្បៈឲ្យបានស្មើនឹង គុណតម្លៃឧបករណ៍​នៃសិល្បៈផងដែរ។

នៅពេលដែលគេគិតគូរដល់គុណតម្លៃឧបករណ៍​នៃសិល្បៈ គឺគេផ្តោតលើការទាញយកគុណតម្លៃសេដ្ឋកិច្ចពីសិល្បៈ។ ដូចនេះ រដ្ឋាភិបាល ឬក្រសួងវប្បធម៌គិតគូរលើការបង្កើតរោងល្ខោន វិចិត្រសាល ផ្តល់ថវិកាផលិតភាពយន្ត បង្កើតយន្តការប្រកួតប្រជែងភាពយន្តនៅឆាកអន្តរជាតិ…។ល។ នៅពេលនេះគឺជាការគិតគូរតែការផ្តល់សេវា (supply side) និងមិនបានគិតគូរដល់ការទទួលសេវា (demand side)។ នៅពេលគេគិតគូរដល់គុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុងនៃសិល្បៈ គឺគេផ្តោតការយកចិត្តទុកដាក់ដល់ការបង្កើនសោភណ្ឌសិល្បៈ បង្កើតឱកាស និងបទពិសោធន៍ដល់ទស្សនិកជន ដើម្បីពួកគេរំភើប គិតគូរ យល់ពីខ្លឹមសារស៊ីជម្រៅនៃសិល្បៈ…ទាំងនេះហើយគឺជាគុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុងនៃសិល្បៈ ដែលនាំមនុស្សឱ្យមកជួបជុំគ្នា ឈ្វេងយល់ពីអត្តសញ្ញាណ លើកកម្ពស់យុត្តិធម៌សង្គម យល់ដឹងពីសិទ្ធិស្មើគ្នាក្នុងការបញ្ចេញទេពកោសល្យវប្បធម៌…។ល។ គុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុងនៃសិល្បៈទាំងនេះ មិនត្រូវបានគេគិតគូរព្រោះវាមិនបាននាំមកជាធនធាន…ថវិកា…នោះអី?

ដូចនេះសិល្បករ និងអ្នកបង្កើតគោលនយោបាយវប្បធម៌គួរគិតគូរដល់ការវិនិយោគលើការបង្កើតស្នាដៃសិល្បៈ និងការបង្ហាញស្នាដៃសិល្បៈ (ការបញ្ជាំងភាពយន្ត ការអានកំណាព្យ ការសំដែង គំនូរ…) ឲ្យកាន់តែមានភាពរស់រវើក សម្បូរបែប ច្នៃប្រឌិត ស៊ីជម្រៅ និងបង្កលក្ខណៈដល់ទស្សនិកជន (និងសិល្បករខ្លួនឯងផងដែរ) ទទួលបានគុណតម្លៃខាងក្នុងនៃសិល្បៈ ឲ្យបានកាន់តែមានប្រសិទ្ធភាពខ្ពស់។

សូមបញ្ជាក់ថា អត្ថបទនេះជាការយល់ឃើញផ្ទាល់ខ្លួន និងមិនបានបញ្ជាក់បង្ហាញពីមុខងារស្ថាប័នណាមួយជាក់លាក់ទេ។ និងមួយទៀត ខ្ញុំស្វាគមន៍ចំពោះពាក្យពេចន៍បកប្រែមួយចំនួន ដែលមានន័យល្អ គ្រប់គ្រាន់ជាងពាក្យ ដែលខ្ញុំបានបកប្រែជាភាសាខ្មែរក្នុងប្លុកនេះ។






រូបភាព៖ សិល្បករសហគ្រាសសង្គមហ្វារសំដែងល្ខោនសៀក «មាសស»​ ថតដោយ សូ ភីណា។

ចលនា Black Lives Matter

Photo credit: Chichago Sun Times

ពេលមាននរណាម្នាក់សរសេរថា៖ ស្រ្តីជាជនរងគ្រោះនៃអំពើហិង្សា គេមិនមែនមានន័យថាបុរស ឬភេទដទៃ (ច្រើនទៀត) មិនរងអំពើហិង្សាទេ! គេគ្រាន់តែមានន័យថា ស្រ្តីជាជនរងគ្រោះនៃអំពើហិង្សា និងសូមចូលរួមទប់ស្កាត់ និងការពារពួកគេពីអំពើហិង្សាផង។ គេមិនមែនមានន័យថា ស្រ្តីជាជនរងគ្រោះនៃអំពើហិង្សា ហើយគេបំភ្លេច ឬគេមិនទទួលស្គាល់ថា ជនដទៃទៀតមិនបានរងអំពើហិង្សាទេ!

នៅពេលមាននរណាម្នាក់លើកឡើងថា ស្រ្តីជាជនរងគ្រោះនៃអំពើហិង្សា ហើយមាននរណាម្នាក់ទៀត ជជែកថា បុរសក៏រងគ្រោះដែរ! ពេលនោះហើយ ដែលសំឡេងមួយនេះមានអាចមានន័យថា យកចិត្តទុកដាក់អីតែលើស្រ្តី? ជនដទៃទៀតម្តេចមិនយកចិត្តទុកដាក់ផង?

ប្រធានបទស្រដៀងនេះ បានក្លាយជាប្រធានបទក្តៅគគុក ទាក់ទងនឹងការជជែកគ្នាអំពី Black Lives Matter និងមតិមួយទៀត ដែលស្រែកថា អលឡាយមែធឺៗៗ!

ដូចខាងលើដែរ Black Lives Matter គឺជាចលនាមួយ នៅសហរដ្ឋអាមេរិក និងនៅប្រទេសជាច្រើន កំពុងទាមទារសិទ្ធិស្មើភាពគ្នា ប្រឆាំងនឹងការប្រើអំពើហិង្សា និងនិទណ្ឌភាពរបស់ប៉ូលីសអាមេរិក។ ចលនានេះមិនមែនប្រឆាំងនឹងការយល់ថា ជីវិតដទៃទៀតមិនសំខាន់ ឬអសមភាពនឹងជីវិតជនជាតិស្បែកខ្មៅទេ។ តាមពិតទៅ ចលនានេះគឺជាចលនាមួយ ដែលទាមទារឲ្យមានគោលការណ៍គោរពសិទ្ធិមនុស្សជាសាកល។

មានមតិជាច្រើន ដែលលើកឡើងថា ឃើញតែបាតុកម្ម ឃើញតែដុតបំផ្លាញ លួច…ហើយបាតុកម្មហ្នឹងនាំឲ្យមានការផ្លាស់ប្តូរអ្វីទៅ? គួរមានការបកស្រាយច្រើនទាក់ទងនឹងការយល់ឃើញនេះ។ ទីមួយ គេត្រូវវែកញែកឲ្យដាច់ពីបាតុករអហិង្សា និងអ្នកបន្លំលួច ដុតបំផ្លាញទ្រពសម្បត្តិនានា។ បាតុករអហិង្សាទាំងនោះ មិនមានបំណងឱ្យមានអំពើហិង្សាដូចនេះទេ! តែមានជនខិលខូច ឆក់ឱកាសក្នុងវិបត្តិនេះ ដើម្បីលួច និងមានចេតនាបំផ្លាញមុខមាត់ចលនាBlack Lives Matter នេះ។ មានវីដេអូជាច្រើន ដែលគេបានថតជនខិលខូច ដែលក្នុងនោះមានស្បែកសផងដែរ ដែលបន្លំខ្លួនក្នុងចំណោមបាតុករទាំងនោះ​។ ទីពីរ គេត្រូវសិក្សា និងឈ្វេងយល់ពីប្រភពគួរឲ្យជឿទុកចិត្តអំពីការផ្លាស់ប្តូរ ដែលរងឥទ្ធិពលពីចលនា Black Lives Matter នេះ។ មានការផ្លាស់ប្តូរជាច្រើនគួរឲ្យកត់សម្គាល់នៅតាមរដ្ឋជាច្រើននៅសហរដ្ឋអាមេរិក។ នៅក្រុង Minneapolis នៃរដ្ឋម៉ូនីសូតា ក្រុមប្រឹក្សាក្រុងនេះ បានបោះឆ្នោតលុបចោលអង្គភាព និងថវិកាពីរបស់ប៉ូលីស។ នៅទីក្រុងញូវយ៉ក អភិបាលក្រុងបានសន្យាថា នឹងកាត់ថវិកាពីស្ថាប័នប៉ូលីស និងមានរដ្ឋខ្លះទៀតបានបង្កើតគណៈកម្មការដាក់វិន័យប៉ូលីសដែលប្រើកម្លាំងលើជនសង្ស័យជ្រុលហួសហេតុជាដើម។ សូមចុចអានអត្ថបទនេះ ដើម្បីអានព័ត៌មានបន្ថែម។

នៅពេលមានគេលើកឡើងថា លើកអីតែ Black Lives Matter? ជីវិតទាំងអស់គឺសំខាន់។ ចុះនរណានិយាយថា ជីវិតផ្សេងទៀតមិនសំខាន់? អត់ទេ! ការដែលនិយាយថា ជីវិតគ្រប់គ្នាក៏សំខាន់ដែរ គឺជាចេតនាមួយរបស់ស្បែកសដែលរើសអើងជាតិសាសន៍ (White suprimacist) ដែលមានបំណងបំបែកឥទ្ធិពលរបស់ចលនា Black Lives Matter នោះឱ្យចុះខ្សោយទៅវិញ ព្រោះពួកគេមិនចង់ឃើញមានភាពស្មើភាពគ្នាជាមួយជនជាតិផ្សេងទៀត ដែលគ្មានស្បែកសដូចពួកគេ។ សូមបញ្ជាក់ថា មិនមែនគ្រប់ជនជាតិស្បែកស សុទ្ធតែអ្នករើសអើងទេ។ នៅពេលនេះ លើសពេលណាៗទាំងអស់ ជនជាតិស្បែកសបានចូលរួមយ៉ាងច្រើនលើសលប់ ជាមួយជនជាតិស្បែកខ្មៅ ព្រោះពួកគេយល់ឃើញថា ជនជាតិស្បែកខ្មៅពិតជារងគ្រោះដោយសារអំពើរើសអើងជាតិសាសន៍រាប់រយឆ្នាំមកហើយ។ និយាយម៉្យាងទៀតថា ចលនា Black Lives Matter នេះ កំពុងផ្តោតលើបញ្ហាដែលកំពុងកើតឡើងទៅលើជនជាតិស្បែកខ្មៅ ដែលជាបញ្ហារសើប ជិះជាន់ កេងប្រវ័ញ្ច ធ្វើទារុណកម្ម និងសម្លាប់ ពីសំណាក់ជនជាតិស្បែកសរាប់រយឆ្នាំមកហើយ។ តាមរយៈរូចត្លុកខាងក្រោមនេះ បង្ហាញថាពីបញ្ហានេះ។

ខ្ញុំដឹងថា បងប្អូនដែលលើកឡើងថា «ជីវិតទាំងអស់គ្នាគឺសំខាន់» មានបំណងល្អ ព្រោះគាត់ចង់ឃើញមានការទាមទារសិទ្ធិ និងយកចិត្តទុកដាក់ដល់ជនជាតិដទៃទៀត ដូចជាជនជាតិរ៉ូហីងញ៉ា (ភូមា), ជនជាតិអ៊ុយហ្គួរ (ចិន), ជនជាតិភាគតិចវៀតណាម ដែលបានកើតនិងរស់នៅកម្ពុជា ជនជាតិដើម​នៅអូស្ត្រាលី ជនជាតិប៉ាឡេស្ទីន ដែលរងគ្រោះរាប់រយឆ្នាំមកហើយ។ តែការលើក All Lives Matter នៅពេលនេះ នៅក្នុងកាលៈទេសៈនេះ ជាពិសេសនៅពេលដែល Black Lives Matter កំពុងមានឥទ្ធិពលនេះ ហាក់ដូចជាលើកជាសំឡេងថា ស្រែកអីតែសម្រាប់ស្បែកខ្មៅ? បញ្ឈប់ទៅ! គួរតែគិតគូរពីជីវិតទាំងអស់គ្នាវិញ! ឬក៏ដូចត្លុកនោះអ៊ីចឹង ដែលថា ផ្ទះអ្នកនោះក៏សំខាន់ ដែលទាំងផ្ទះដែលគេសុំឲ្យគេជួយនោះកំពុងឆេះសន្ធោសន្ធៅនោះ។

តាមពិតទៅ ចលនា Black Lives Matter កាន់តែរីករាយ​ ប្រសិនបើមានចលនាទាមទារសិទ្ធិសម្រាប់ជនជាតិដទៃទៀត នៅពេលមានវិបត្តិកើតឡើងទៅលើជនជាតិភាគតិច ដែលងាយរងគ្រោះទាំងនោះ! តែហេតុអ្វីទើបតែផុសឡើងនៅពេលមានចលនា Black Lives Matter នេះទៅវិញ?

ម្តងហើយ ម្តងទៀត ការដែលមានចលនា Black Lives Matter មិនមែនមានន័យថាជីវិតផ្សេងទៀតមិនសំខាន់ទេ។

Photo credit: Chichago Sun Times

She left, My Guilt Stays

i was raised to hate you

since before you were born

two different personalities

water and oil

never went along

the trees of our old home noticed

the cottage I built with my friend scolded me

the bike I ride to school also implored me

i was repeatedly raised to hate you!

the river i took public bath cited a poem

about how i dislike you

i ignored it because i didn’t think that hating you was a problem. I believed

leaving home for Phnom Penh reduced the hate

that I had even before you were born

but it had stayed. It had never left a second

until you left

your LETTER didn’t mention my name

everyday, I breath with guilt

A Little Voice~!

សូមមានជីវិតជីវ៉ា និងសុខភាពស្រស់ថ្លា


ក្លែមរសជាតិល្វីងនៃកាហ្វេ ឬតែ!

ពេលនោះយើងនឹងមិនជជែកពីអ្វីទាំងអស់ ក្រៅពី


ទោះជាដើមឈើជុំវិញស្តាប់យើងក៏ដោយ ឲ្យពួកគេស្តាប់ទៅចុះ

ទោះជាផ្លូវក្បែរហាងកាហ្វេនោះលួចមើលយើងក៏ដោយ ឲ្យគេមើលចុះ

ទោះជាពែងកាហ្វេនោះបន្លំខ្លួនជាភ្នាក់ងារស៊ើបអង្កេតក៏ដោយ ឲ្យគេធ្វើចុះ

តោះ! យើងនិយាយគ្នា តែរឿងជីវិតយើងពីរនាក់បានហើយ។


វាប្រែប្រួលលឿនណាស់ ផ្លាស់ប្តូរមួយរំពេច

ទោះជាគម្លាតមិនបានបំបែកយើងទាំងពីរក៏ដោយ ក៏



Be alive and strive
we shall meet again
over a cup of coffee
or tea

then we shall talk
about nothing but our lives

let the trees listen
let the streets watch
let the cups pretend as spies
let’s talk about nothing but lives

life is strange

quick turn, it changes

distance won’t separate us, but

life goes on

you know?

A Nostalgia

The rain came when we were eating inside a restaurant near Phsar Tapang. Unexpectedly, my friend said ‘Let’s go!’. I then asked eagerly ‘Where to?’.

My question was simple. I naturally wondered where on earth did she want to go in the rain? She replied ‘Driving under the rain is fun, let’s go!’. I had to go with her although I didn’t fully agree with her.

We were on my little motorbike. People called it Moto Charlie. It had been very popular for especially girls to drive to school. It is small and cute and easy to manage. Along the Norodom Boulevard, we were driving and laughing at many silly stories which I don’t remember. The drops of the rain was heavy and pure. There were not many cars at that time so we drove care free. We were having great fun but then…

in the rain…

in the rain…

in the rain, a policeman came…

in the rain, he claimed ‘No motorbike allowed on Norodom!’.

Normally when police stopped you on a ‘Motorbike Not Allowed Boulevard’, it means that he was going to give you a fine. Most often without a receipt!’. The amount of the fine depended on his mouth too! I was numbed and shamed. My happiness early totally disappeared. What my friend did next amazed me till today.

She pretended that she didn’t hear what he said. She told him ‘We’ve lost our way! Can you please tell me where the Independent Monument is?’ The policeman who came in the rain to stop us pointed his right arm to the direction of the monument. My friend said ‘thank you’ and off we go!

the policeman

who came in the rain

let us go

in the rain


កាលពីថ្ងៃទី ២៣ មេសា ឈាងលីបានសរសេរកំណាព្យនេះ។







ភ្នំពេញ ថ្ងៃទី២៣ ខែមីនា ឆ្នាំ២០២០
ម៉ោង ៧៖ ១៥ នាទី

បន្ទាប់មកគាត់បានដាក់ឲ្យខ្ញុំសរសេរកំណាព្យដែរ។ ខាងក្រោម ជាកំណាព្យរបស់ខ្ញុំ ឆ្លើយតបនឹងការបណ្តុះចិត្តពី Yeng Chheangly!










២៥ មេសា ២០២០

រូបថត៖ យ៉េង ឈាងលី

One Country, One Chosen Story

I was challenged by a good friend SOUS Sinath to post my photos from my travel. Besides photos, I also added some stories related to the photos too! I chose to post photos from the neighboring country but I added a few from Salzbur too. Unfornately, I can’t find any photos of myself when I was in Vietnam because mostly I was the one who took the photos for others.

Here are some of the photos and stories from places that might interest you.

Paksong Plateou, Champa Sak province, Southern Laos (Photo: Tola

Picture #1 is from Laos. Champa Sak is the third province of Laos that I visited besides Luong Prabang and Vientiane. One story from Champak Sak is that I was amazed with myself for speaking broken Laos. I love the language! I practice speaking Laos from a Youtube channel. I could tell where I want to go, thank you, eat sticky rice, very delicious, beautiful and not beautiful…and a lot more. With four women friends, we went from one place to another on a tuk tuk, on a car, familiar ourselves with the language, eat great foods, meeting strangers, laugh out loud, drinking, singing all along the road…a great adventure. I would come again and go further especially Savannakhet province. The golden boy in my hand was hidden by his owner after I played with him. Perhaps he thought I might transmit any diseases to the vulnerable wild animal.

De’ Lapae Contemporary Art Space, Narathiwat Province, Down South Thailand (Don’t remember who took this photo!)

Photo #2, I chose the place/photo because the place is great! As part of the Living Arts Fellows Program, we was recommended to visit Pattani and Narathiwat province, down south Thailand. We did go there despites news of insurgency. We chose the arts over fear. Off we went and they didn’t disappoint a single bit. I love people’s kindness, culture, and arts. Food was so delicious. At a lunch time, I ate two bowls of beef soup and it took me two hours to digest. It was quite good. I told myself that I would rather sick of eating of two rather than one and regret later. The shop was a well known to locals. Despites the news about conflict, things went all well. People do their work as normal. I appreciate how artists are working hard to tell stories from their provinces through their arts.

3D Museum, at Prince of Songkla University Pattani Campus.
Writer as a star, me at Pramaputra Literary Festival, Assam, India. Photo right behind is a Thai writer.

Photo #3, After losing my purse with all my money in it, my trip to India came all with good memory. One among four Cambodian writers from Phnom Penh, I was so excited to see my photo exhibited along the main street of Guhawati, the city of Assam State of India. Being called ‘Ma’am frequently by our sweet volunteers was one of the highlights and also weird (at least to myself). I asked the volunteers to call me by my name but they politely refused and said ‘No, Ma’am, you are very senior to us. We can’t do that to you! We need to show you ‘respect’. I thought ‘Oh well, let it be!’

This is Cafe am Kai in Salzburg, Austrai in 2015

Photo #4, When a friend and I were exploring Salzburg town, we arrived at this charming Cafe. We came in after taking about 50 photos outside. The coffee was so good. A warm coffee in cold weather. There were many cool slogans inside. I remember one of the slogans says “One shouldn’t take life so seriously. No one gets out alive anyway.” I love this Cafe so much that I made a promise with myself that I will write a novel about it. After 5 years, the novel has been revised twice. One scene is about the lead couple met for the first time in Europe. I hope the novel will be finished soon. I need a lot of inspirations to finalise the novel.

The Crush Collection, my first anthology is on a table in front of Cafe am Kai!
A very proud first time author carriying her book every where she goes.