Mony

Mony lives two houses away from me. Her grandmother calls me “jao,” which is Khmer for grandchild. After my parents left, Mony’s family began making food for me – breakfast and dinner, every day. I go at eight o’clock each morning before the car comes to take me to work, and Mony’s mother makes me rice with pork, my favorite Asian breakfast. During breakfast, Mony and I talk a little. She has already had one class by that time, while I have only just woken up. She tells me, beginning each time with “Yes, and…” about her studies, the other students, and her family. I listen carefully, repeating key words to indicate my understanding, and asking critical questions to keep the conversation afloat.

She likes to give examples. She will begin with her “Yes, and…” and then provide some short information about her class, followed by “Example:…” and a long example of how her statement is true. When I first started going to her house, we did not say much, but now that it has been a week, she has plenty to say. She speaks very well, and I have only taught her a few words, like algebra, geometry, protractor, and jealous.

I quickly learned that she goes to school for about seven hours each day, and the rest of the time she spends eating or studying. That hardly leaves us with much to talk about, but we have thus far always had a school-related topic to discuss. She has explained the school system and all her classes, and recently has been talking about her classmates, all of whom are much older than she (she is only nine). She has said many times, “I have many enemies,” which she explained is because she is the best student in the class, but also the youngest. Enemy is a strong word, though, and I hope that it is not the appropriate one. After I taught her the word “jealous,” it has come up many times in reference to the other students’ feelings toward her.

I think I have met Mony’s entire family: two grandparents, two parents, one aunt (first-cousin, once removed? niece of grandmother), two uncles, and a younger sister. Mony’s grandfather runs a radio station but is sick, so he only goes every so often. Her grandmother sells drinks and small items from a stand in front of their house. Her mother works inside the house, cooking and cleaning mostly. Her father works at the Cambodiana Hotel, a huge 4-star hotel, in the restaurant there. I’m not sure about one of her uncles, but the other one is a “famous singer and actor,” whose name is also David. This “famous” actor looks nothing like the rest of his family and is actually very handsome. Mony tells me that he has toured (my word) in Canada, Australia, and France about five years ago. He doesn’t speak English of French, though. When I asked her why he came back, she said that “many girls fell in love with him, and he didn’t like that.” I don’t know why that would be any different here in Cambodia.

For each meal, I arrive, and whoever is in front of the house (usually Mony’s mother, cooking) ushers me inside, where I find a dimly lit living area with four tables. One table is set with a tablecloth and runner, two places set with complete and arranged silverware, glasses, coffee/tea cups and saucers, and elaborately folded cloth napkins (which are folded differently for each meal – I think I’ve counted about eight different ways). I take my seat at one place, and someone summons Mony, who sits opposite me.

This is a very sophisticated family, and one can see that almost immediately. The grandmother looks elegant and composed, the grandfather pensive and observant. And one more thing I noticed is that they all have very good teeth.