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"The shack keeper's chickens"

Thmei Poom is a perfect traditional village to open a program.



A string of houses branches of palm trees, plates and strips of bamboo;
plucked chickens and hungry who are terrified to move white spaces for bicycles;
cows lying around in the middle of the road Lift the tail to release a sound lewd watching a blank look on your bike locked down side of the road;
kids playing from 5am to 6am in the morning, ass naked
fathers of families to lustful eye, alcohol from 11am in the morning;
and of course, two peeled and shaved with an energy trying to save inordinate those lost souls ...
short, an authentic village that I like. After 2

stays Thmei Poom, I had found my audience and carefully selected from broken arms, and social cases in hardship cases to open my program number 2. A poem with any other DYCFE ...

in the top ten winners, there are:

-> The home where a 84 year old grandpa sleeps with a coffin at the foot of his bed (in a subtle way to convey to his children that he does them not trust to take charge of her funeral);

-> Family as the second son beats his little brother disabled stroke bamboo slats, holding him by one foot so called because if the kid is going to come hit me, (except that when I see what big brother lip biting look at me fixedly planted by shooting her violently on the buttocks bare lath of his little brother, with a hint of sadistic pleasure, I have the impression that it is he who has a problem ...);

-> Family where my sponsored girl-very good student left the foolish village, happy result of a rape by a unknown ...

-> The family of three orphans of 10, 12 and 14 who have no family except a grandmother of 76 years with a huge neck tumor;

-> Or even this mother who has just given birth, two months ago, an adorable little girls, but the husband addicted to gambling after losing to the motorcycle for which he was indebted, has just fled the family home one week postpartum his wife, leaving her to settle all its debts.



You tell me, after that list, the lady of 8 children including a girl with Down syndrome, her husband openly wrong with a widow in a hut warden for chicken, just opposite the church. .. This is perhaps not the most unfortunate of all.

is true. It exaggerates, it is not doing so badly ... However, during my last visit is the story that put the town upside down.

Amling Phat, my potential local responsibility (since yesterday proved in fact ...) welcomed me home. I took my shower, in sarong over a jar with a plastic pot for me to pour water on it (try to rinse your armpits with soap a pot, he is a real headache ...
At eight o'clock we were in pajamas ready to go under our mosquito nets and trying to control a crisis allergic to her cat hair, I watched this cat shaggy nibble at the edge of my mat, a dying lizard.
and then in the middle of this peaceful vigil, it hits at his door.
Aha ... outstanding. who can it be? Gévaudant of the beast? the dreadful snow snowman?
While I'm imagining the senarios wimp, my girlfriend has already Amling Phat time de partir et de revenir. Elle m'explique gravement que faute de monstre du Lockness le mysterieux visiteur n'est autre que sa super copine, celle qui n'a pas de quoi se plaindre puisqu'elle n'a que 8 gosses, dont un seul handicapé, et que son mari est juste un coureur de jupons qui découche régulièrement. La routine quoi, pas de quoi en faire un oeuf couvé.

Mais bon, elles ça ne les fait pas rire et Amling Phat m'explique qu'elle me laisse seule le temps de faire une expédition avec sa copine pour épier son mari qui couche avec une veuve dans la cabane du gardien de poulets construite par la paroisse catholique du village. ah oui... là déjà, ça commence à faire désordre... il will be happy Father Francis ...

I remember during my first visit to Thmei Poom, Amling had me drawn into a night expedition to catch the parents of the candidate sponsoring the program for playing gambling, and put them in front of their lies. They had good tides but I thought it was quoted a few of our unique approach that made us laugh. In fact, obviously, Amling Phat inspector made his rounds every day.

Before leaving, Phat Amling explains how during a leaden barricade myself in his house. I do not see the value until an hour or two after his departure, I heard five gunshots, neat, at least enough net for me to say in turn: "No Heloise'm not afraid, you do not you sleep with the husband of that lady" "anyway, it's expensive to pay for batifoller circles of chicken droppings," and "I saw a great moment of loneliness, what will become the world without me?".
It seems that the funk is tiring, because two minutes later I was sleeping the sleep of the just. Late at night
Amling Phat returns. I open the door diving into a semi sleep sleepwalking and on balance I prefer to go back quickly under my mosquito net instead of hitting me on the record.

In the early morning (6 hours, sleeping in what ...) Amling's girlfriend comes to a cuckold tell me his life during qu'Amling Phat minced fat port before frying as a breakfast.
She found her thug, and did not kill him. Obviously this would be a sin ... But Phat Amling explains that the real problem is that the widow receives adultery openly and to everyone (even you know it now then say ...) in the hut guardian chickens.

So it was that the hut keeper of chickens?
This is not a variant of "The Fisherman's Hut" by Francis Cabrel but also emotionally intense. In fact it is a shelter in the middle of a barn-funded Catholic Parish in the village to allow two widows of the village, destitute, orphans who are single have a decent income. In theory the "shack" was a rewrite of the universe Laura Ingals, but in practice, it is the Emmanuelle series seems to have prevailed. Farewell good feelings, good trashy sex.

Amling Phat therefore expects the arrival of Francis, the father missionary young and dynamic, ultra cool (like he made me die of laughter by giving me the other day "at the start, I can honestly tell you now EDM is not ... I hesitated a bit extreme right, as assoc'?"), but still damn appaled made by the panty party atmosphere that hangs around the investment "shack" that he had encouraged his wishes.

She wants to explain his case awareness and gain their support for penalizing the poached chicken keeper's hut. Together they agree.
If they close their eyes to the faults of morality (and taste because I maintain that the toilets of French motorways are more glamorous), the Catholic community Poom Thmei become a camp for swingers, and this is not exactly the goal of Benedict XVI ...

Verdict: we should announce to the widows they are returned.
As we originally selected one of these widows to sponsor his son I find myself onboard an official visit to the fisherman's hut with Amling Phat and Francis, banded with my insignia From Mekong Children, to tell them that good, Day slip is finite and therefore, for the EDM Popos help, the time seemed inopportune to sponsor her brat, he was also motivated (it is not a thing that comforts me little).

I can not imagine that in this log cabin, we can really make things hot, but I still feel ill at ease with both sulfur vapors.

way out, I turn to the Father Francis and asked him perplexed
"... but the other widow during this time she did what?"
what Francis replied quietly:
"Bah, what do you do it? She looks."
"..."

Good. Morality, the real injured in the case, it was the chickens. Who's going to make the show tonight?

Amling Phat commandeers me on the field. She is afraid of thieves and believes that will not be too sure of 4 on its caquetteurs adults. Meanwhile, the father Fraçois tranquillou sleeping in the church. I tried to explain my phobia of birds, she does not care. and here I am in pajamas share of the net Amling Phat and two young instit 'maternal great rigolottes village in their pink pajamas, and super happy to sleep with a barang.



All night I thought it was already morning because of the roosters and I had to meet 2 times because the net was badly hung on a wire, hung himself a strip of bamboo, woven itself into the wall, branches of palm trees. but other than that, I "Deik srouol srouol" (slept well, what) ...

At 5am I left the Women's hair was plastered, and went back to Kampong Cham with Father Francis.

Well, all that to say that Poom Thmei is hot, super hot, and then, come on, we can say from the outside, it's pretty funny.

Santa Poom Thmei "end of your soap, ladies back to your ironing ...

Best And Most Effective Brand Of Gluthatione

She does what she wants me



Sitting in the courtyard of the Church of psar tauch or before the bar of the parish, its gensive toothless chewing, sipping his juice or cane straw, waiting for me. Still and quiet as a light rain early afternoon. It
bears his unwavering flowered blouse with round collar, his big krama draped over the shoulder, and his faded sarong. His eyes are two blind slots hidden beneath the weight of his eyelids, two eclipses which we burn the core. We recognize the thousand.
It looks like a painting, it looks like a poem, it could be the character of a medieval romance or a Romanian lullaby. I do not know what artist would have enough talent to make it this way ... to irradiate

Seeing me, she snorts, she slips from his bench and rapid advance in small steps, holding her arms towards me, and exclaiming "bong srey! Sabay Bong Sok Srey Sok Sabay tee? ". His little tired tongues are" scroutch scroutch scroutch "on gravel mixed with mud and sand.
With his back to the fold in half, it looks like a small turtle, or a little leaf fall rolled around itself.
Standing she made the same size Assisi.
I barely have time to stop my bike it is already hanging on my arm, and we hug like lovers already stayed too long separated.



Preque every month we find ourselves either in this court of the parish, either at her in his house perched atop a long ladder. She then held an old mat on his tiny balcony, and I spoke at length, holding my hands.
This week, we found three well again, but whenever she asks for more: "what's your name srey bong, bong eh srey what's your name?", And each time she said goodbye to the same way "Ocun Thom Thom" ("great big thank you"), each week she just wink his eye against my shoulder, and every time she gets what she wants.

is a seductive in its own way. It has the charm of those which are not wary, one to which we succumb happy and yet despite either.



the "Djiei" as it is called, was 79 years.
That is to say it as if it were 107 benefiting from social security, screening of cancer from 40 years of diabetes pills cons, and that his schedule is divided between bridge games with friends, her weekly physio appointments reimbursed by the mutual, and aqua aerobics for the elderly at the municipal pool. Briefly, this is why 79 years in Cambodia is 107 years in France.
Except that she does not even know there's a word for "security" much less a word for "social".
That said, I end up believing that it is the misery in which she lives, and those around him who give him the strength to live.

His retirement she wins by pushing a small cart and shouting to residents:
"Hèèèp tchaaaï! Hèèèp tchaaaï! Hèèèp tchaaaaï!"
is the cry of scavengers, and "Djiei" is garbage picker. she collects plastic bottles, rusty sheets, cardboard punctured, and resells them to factories who recycle. She must earn 6000 riels the lucky days. $ 1 and wheelbarrows. When
it is not environmental activism without the knowledge of his own volition, she just use the influence of his toothless smile on Bong Srey Barang and parish priests Psar Tauch for rehabilitation of school youth.
And it works.
Father Bob says it's a saint. The Kroo
Nea is a bit of Margaret Thatcher Psar Tauch bottom smiles when she speaks, and I bah me, she does what she wants from me.

When I see her rushing into my arms and make me its coo, I wanted him to make billions of kissing, fondling him his little white hair gathered back at the top of her skull with his comb plastic imitation shell.

It often comes begging for help for an orphan she has collected, or for the son of a neighbor who lives in a hut of 3 square meters over a sewer sparkling green and smelly piss , shit and fermentation, and corpses float or bottle of beer.

In a small leap she sits sidesaddle behind me on my saddle, and I become her prince charming. My princess must be a little fairy. It's so light that I must remember it does not fly to when I started. Together we brave the wind and dust up the ivory tower to rescue her lost children. My princess is not afraid of danger. His
resident has generally hit the mouth of a small handbag thief, but he too is under the spell of "Djiei. So when his gaze is speared through the eyes moist kindness of his heart grandma, he repeats almost with conviction: "I want to go to school." The
"Djiei" I love, my star is my America to me.