My Birthday Cambodian Style

Cambodians don’t celebrate birthdays. From the day they’re born, each of them is already one year old. When New Years comes around at the end of the dry season, everyone becomes one year older. This can lead to some confusion as a two-month old born in February might already be two years old by the end of April. Thanks to the Khmer Rouge’s systematic campaign to wipe out all forms of personal documentation, many Cambodians don’t even know their own birthdates. Mr. Lang, IDE Cambodia’s Administration Manager only had his birth certificate re-issued a few weeks ago. This is not an uncommon occurrence. I have no idea if he knew his date of birth but I gather it’s not uncommon practice to just create one out of thin air.

In recent years, some younger Khmer have apparently started to celebrate birthday parties too. Like Hip-Hop and (unfortunately) Britney Spears, if it’s Western, it’s trendy. I normally don’t do much for my birthday. It’s never seemed that important to me. Still, copying an idea that I had read on Selena’s blog, I invited the whole office out for dinner on my birthday on April 29. (Selena was my predecessor working for EWB in Cambodia. She’s now working for IDE in Sri Lanka. You can find her blog here.) From what she’d written, this looked like an excellent opportunity for some extended cultural exchange and integration outside of the usual work setting.

Almost everyone I invited seemed really enthused, more so than I could have anticipated. I had to turn down about a half-dozen offers of presents and questions about appropriate gifts. They insisted at the least on all chipping together to buy me a cake. Previous stories aside, I didn’t have the heart to explain to them that since it was still Passover, I shouldn’t be eating any baked goods. They were all far too enthusiastic about the cake for me to turn them down.

After some consultation with my coworkers here, we settled on a visit to Samaki restaurant in Prey Leap. Prey Leap is home to a string of restaurants with live music just outside of Phnom Penh. Phnom Penois go there for celebrations or just to unwind, breathing air with a little less grime in it. The meal was a big one. There were over twenty people in attendance. My friends ordered and I sat back and watched a seemingly endless train of food arrive. It was a great opportunity to sample some of the local food, chat, and even meet some co-workers’ families and children.

As the meal wound down to a close, Mike, on behalf of everyone at IDE presented me with a big wreath, the kind I had only seen previously placed as offerings on images of the Buddha, made by stringing together hundreds of small Jasmine flowers. The cake arrived. Only Mike’s family and I knew the words or even more than the first couple of notes of “Happy Birthday” but there was a spirited, and in some cases slightly intoxicated, attempt made. Mike’s children seemed to really enjoy the cake. For everyone else it was a bit of a novelty. We sat and chatted for another hour or so before realizing that it was getting pretty late and we should all be heading home. The time was about 8:30pm. After all, cakes aside, this is still Cambodia.

Phalla Brings the Cake