A Woman of Angkor by John Burgess

Author:John Burgess
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9786167339252
Publisher: River Books
Published: 2013-03-28T00:00:00+00:00

‘Yes, but knowing that home’s up ahead keeps us going. And out on the sea on a calm day, with the sun shining down and every patch of the sky open to see, well, you can’t feel much closer to Heaven.’

That sun was warming my head even then. I asked, cautiously: ‘Do you ever actually see Heaven out there?’

‘In the heart you do, Lady Sray.’

I wondered briefly if for me it would ever be any other way. Then I put aside the thought. ‘Is China like the Khmer Empire? Same blue sky overhead?’

‘Oh, yes, it’s the same sky. But a different kind of people. For one thing, they wear clothes over their entire bodies.’

‘Really!’ It wasn’t entirely a surprise, though. I had seen figures dressed in that way on the teapot that my husband had sold in the first days of our new lives. But I’d never understood why. So I asked.

‘Partly...well, it’s just the custom, Lady,’ said Mr Chen, showing a bit of embarrassment. ‘You get so that you don’t feel yourself if you’re not covered up. But it’s also because it can get very cold.’

‘Like here, then! Not so different. Like on those nights after the winter solstice when the wind blows.’ In the heat of this day, it was hard to imagine that such nights existed.

Mr Chen laughed again. ‘Consider, Lady, if the air were ten times or twenty times colder than what you just described. Sometimes it gets so cold that water turns to stone and white powder falls from the sky instead of rain.’

‘I can’t be!’

‘It is in fact like that. People shake and shiver like they have a fever. But they’re not really sick. They can solve the problem by covering their bodies, or by keeping moving so that their bodies make heat.’

I looked to Mr Chen and thought that indeed I was talking to someone experienced and wise.

We reached a large wooden building, with its own jetty in the back. Inside, Mr Chen showed me bag upon bag of rice stacked in neat order, too many to count. In an adjacent building, I was invited to inspect wooden boxes filled with chinaware, tea, bolts of silk and a few things I didn’t recognize.

‘It’s very impressive, Mr Chen. It must all generate a good flow of income.’

‘Yes, we can’t complain. We are blessed.’

‘And what type of charity do you support?’ I must confess that I wondered if he would now dissemble. The Trinity Temple had after all been allowed to fall into such disrepair. I had heard it said that Chinese loved their money like Khmers loved their children and wouldn’t ever part with it.

But he answered: ‘Different kinds, Lady Sray. Hospitals, an orphanage. I will take you to one of our projects.’

He led me a short distance through streets to a large pavilion at the port’s edge. At the door, a man who seemed to be in charge greeted Mr Chen in a most respectful way. The merchant knew his way around inside, and he gave me a tour.

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