By Barbara Delbrouck
14-09-2009
What happens to the Khmer who come back to Cambodia after growing up abroad? Do they feel at home in the land of smiles? How are they received by the local population? After meeting with a dozen Khmer from the diaspora who decided to renew with their roots, one thing seems clear: it is not an easy return. Some had never set foot on the land of their ancestors. Others, who spent part of their childhood here, do not recognise anything anymore. Cambodia has changed and so have they. Most of them hit against a reality sometimes hard to accept: they are immediately perceived by the locals as “foreigners.” The situation is experienced in various ways: some find peace by considering themselves as foreigners from the outset; others do everything they can to “become Khmer”; others still seek a balance between their different identities.
Stranger in one’s own country
If there was to be one thing in common to all the Khmer from the diaspora, it would probably be the fact that they were all immediately spotted as “foreigners” by the local Khmer, by the way they stand, walk, speak or look… The situation may be a cause for smiles at first, but for some, it is a source of frustration and questions.
“People do not recognise me as a Khmer because of my style which is not very local, the way I move and walk,” French-Khmer Auray says. “They hesitate. Maybe he is a Khmer from abroad? They do not really know. Usually, people think I’m from the Philippines or Vietnam, but not Cambodia.” Auray left Cambodia when he was two. In France, his father used to speak French to him and his mother Khmer. He therefore understands Khmer but does not speak it. “I used to hear people say: how can he not speak Khmer whereas he was born in Cambodia? Initially, it’s funny, but with time, it becomes tedious and you stop making the effort to explain.”
Identity questions on a daily basis
Putsata, a Khmer-American who also left Cambodia as a child, was faced with this problem when she met her family: “They would laugh at the way I walked, so fast, or the way I spoke Khmer… At the time, I also laughed. But afterwards, you start thinking and wondering: so, am I Khmer or American? How do I see myself?” In Cambodia, any daily act, however small, keeps bringing Putsata back to her identity questions, whether she is taking a tuktuk or going to the market… “I often wonder what people think of me. Do they want to give me a Khmer price because they know I am Khmer or do they want to give me a foreigner price because I come from the States?”
The problem also concerns the Khmer who grew up in Cambodia but had to leave the country to come back only years later. Sokal left when he was 15. He is now 30 and came back to the Kingdom for the first time in 2009. Whilst feeling like he was finally in an environment that did not differentiate him physically from most people, he realised he still did not go unnoticed. In Phnom Penh, people talked to him in Chinese or Japanese. “I still feel a bit like a foreigner in my own country,” he lamented. “People everywhere know I am not from here because of many things.” Sokal tried everything so that Khmer would no longer notice he came from “somewhere else,” but to no avail. “I always try to ask my friends what I need to do to be like the others, because every time, I get remarks from people. It’s annoying. I tried to wear the same kind of clothes, to do things like them, but people still always know you’re not from Cambodia.”
The situation is sometimes doubly difficult to accept for some diaspora Khmer, who, despite their integration in their host country, have always felt they were different or even ostracised due to their origins. Today, they come back to Cambodia in the hope of feeling “home” at last but must face the reality that, here as well, they are considered to be different.
For others, that is not a problem. Like Davy Chou, a young 25-year-old filmmaker born in France who is comfortable with being a foreigner in Cambodia. “You will always remain the foreigner. That’s normal and in any case, that’s true. I am French, not Cambodian,” the young man insists. “I would lie to myself if I said I was a Cambodian. I have lived 25 years in France. My thinking is French and my habits are French.”
Dealing with double culture and finding one’s identity
Being considered as “foreigners” in the land of their ancestors necessarily entails identity questions, but it also helps some to find at last answers to questions that have haunted them for years.
Joty Mousar has long experienced an identity crisis. A Cham Cambodian who grew up in the suburbs in France, he struggled a lot to construct his identity. In France, he did not feel considered as French, and growing up, he realised he was not Cambodian or even Cham either. “The Cham in France integrate in three ways: either they become French, religious [Editor’s note: Muslims] or they become Cambodians,” he explained. “As for me, I have always made myself on anti-models. In the end, I built myself with my three identities and I dealt with it. By being the three and by being completely different from the three.” Joty now lives in Cambodia, where he found a “very Cambodian” Cham family, some kind of social climbing and a balance. “I may seem a little insolent by being too French sometimes. But people understand it because I did not grow up here. In the end, I am accepted because I am not Cambodian and I have the advantages of a Cambodian because I speak the language. This all results in a stability and serenity I did not enjoy in France.”
Bowinneth, a Khmer-Dutch psychologist for children, also found the solution in the middle path. After staying five years in Cambodia, she is now planning to return to the Netherlands with her husband and two children. “I came here to find my roots, but I ended up finding them within myself,” she explained. “I finally accepted there will always be a tension between my two cultures and I am in the process of striking a balance. I feel at peace with my two sides.”
As for him, Hisham Mousar found peace by realising, then accepting, that he was first and foremost French. “I think the majority of French with Cambodian origins are French people,” he says. “They were brought up in France and bathed in French tales, philosophy, literature, language. It is only after that one can wonder whether they are Cambodians or not. It is not something spontaneous. It is rather an individual’s personal decision to go towards their origins.”
A relationship that demands an effort
The first contacts with local Khmer are therefore not always simple, when they are not outright disappointing for those who had high expectations from a fantasised encounter. Yet, in order to evolve, relationships between diaspora Khmer and local Cambodians require time and efforts, especially when the former do not master the Khmer language. On this point as well, reactions differ a lot according to personalities. Some successfully establish very close relationships and genuine friendships, while others abandon that idea and end up simply assuming the fact they feel better with foreigners.
“At the beginning, it was hard because I had a lot of hopes about the relationship with Cambodians,” explained Rapytha, 40-year-old French-Khmer. “But it improved a lot since I stopped having any expectation and I started taking them as they are. I have changed a lot. Before, I used to set a very high standard and I was sad it didn’t go well. Now, I feel completely accepted because I no longer seek to be accepted. My relationship to them is now much more appeased.” Rapytha knows that this relationship still requires time and efforts. But today, she already considers that she is no longer seen as a foreigner. She believes that her fluent Khmer was hugely instrumental in achieving that result.
From the outset, Davy Chou sees himself as a foreigner, eager for discovery. And as a French, he is not disappointed by his encounter with Cambodians, whom he finds especially friendly. “If they perceive you as truly interested, they are very happy to show you their country: the night market, how people have fun in Cambodia… I have a very open mind, so we can get along!” Davy also insists on the necessity to get highly involved, whether one is a diaspora Khmer or not, before being able to establish relationships with Cambodian Khmer. When he arrived, he decided not to mix with foreigners and, at least in a first time, to make friends only with Khmer and learn their language. “I came here with a kind of obsession, almost a ‘non-Cambodian racism.’ And it worked. I have lots of Cambodian friends.” It was only three months after he arrived that he met with other expatriates. “I think that’s the only possible order. The opposite is easier because you share the same language and culture.” In four months, it was mostly with students that Davy managed to make friends: “I am closer to them because they have my age, a similar level of education, and most of all, they speak English, which is essential so we can understand each other and I can keep learning Khmer.”
Even if true friendships can thus be struck with local Cambodians, it must be accepted they will be different from those with other foreigners or diaspora Khmer. Some accept it more easily than others, maybe depending on how much they feel Khmer within.
Bowinneth, who grew up in the Netherlands, also made friends with Cambodians during the five years she spent in the Kingdom. Half of her friends in Phnom Penh are Khmer and most of these friendships started as working relationships. Western friends, Khmer friends… “They are just different relationships,” she explained. “And I feel absolutely fine with it because it responds to my Khmer side. I think they [my Cambodian friends] consider me as Khmer, but they also feel I’m a Khmer from the diaspora.”
For Rapytha, the differences in friendships are also linked to lifestyles. With her Khmer friends, she does not have great discussions, between confidants, but she will talk about the small things in life. “They will not fully reveal themselves,” she acknowledged. “They are very discreet about their feelings. But maybe it is precisely because they feel like I cannot understand and I will not bother them either with my feelings. Because I do not allow myself to have any.”
“I don’t have a lot of Cambodian friends,” Joty acknowledges. “There is a difference in my mind and in the way I live things.” Same for Auray, who feels more at ease with French or foreigners with Cambodian origins.
A more difficult integration for women?
These difficulties are compounded by the weight of traditions, which is heavier to bear for women. Even though customs are evolving, woman’s place in Cambodia is not the same as in Europe, the States or Australia. “It is more difficult for women because when you come from France, it is a total step back,” Joty comments. “They have less rights, those who go out are frowned upon, while other people’s opinion is very important here. You have to keep the girl’s honour.”
Rapytha confirms the difficulty, which is particularly true when it comes to work. “I see it compared to my diaspora Khmer colleagues. Cambodians do not see me the same way as them. They have a very chauvinist idea of women’s place at work. Moreover, if you have any responsibility, as a diaspora woman, I feel like it is harder to find your place.” Yet, Rapytha succeeded in doing so. But she is careful to dress in a way not to shock her colleagues or friends. “I think a Westerner can allow herself outfits I cannot because I have Cambodian roots,” she explained. “I won’t go to a picnic with Cambodian friends wearing a backless top, while it is something I wouldn’t hesitate to do with French friends. So, I adapted but it depends who I am with.”
However, according to Bowinneth, things have evolved since she started living here. “I noticed that things have changed. I have also probably changed, but I think it’s both. In Phnom Penh, people have become more open. About fashion but also about women’s role as they have become more socially active, do studies…”
As for love, while diaspora Khmer men often marry a “local” woman, diaspora Khmer women are often perceived as independent and nothing like the picture of the perfect Cambodian housewife, and there are less of them to find their soul mate in the local population. For instance, Putsata, a 35-year-old independent Khmer-American, journalist who has worked in Afghanistan, is light years away from the icon of the discreet “good Khmer wife.” Tellingly, her parents did not seek to try and impose a husband on her. “Too American” for a Khmer man, her mother herself jokes. But what about her? Would she be ready to say yes to a local Cambodian? “I think it would have to be someone very special to handle that,” Putsata answers. “He could definitely not ask me to iron his shirt. Forget about it!”, she adds in a laugh. But if she had to choose, who would her preference go to? She says she never thought about the question, but the answer quickly appears from her mind: “I think if I had the choice between two men, one Khmer and the other not Khmer, but both equally liberal, I would choose the Khmer one,” she states with assurance. “Because since I’ve been in Cambodia, there has been this incredible thing when I am with my family and Khmer friends: we understand the same culture, we are going to laugh at the same things. And to be able to share a language that is not English, that is our language, that is something truly fascinating.” But that Khmer husband, “he would have to be really very liberal,” she hurriedly specified. A word to the wise…
(translated from French by Ji-Sook Lee)
The first half of this investigation "The Khmer from the diaspora: is a new generation back? (1/2)" was published on Friday September 11th 2009.
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