Never Do Business With A Monk

I learned that the hard way.

This all started when I came up with the idea of showing a few movies to the students in Angkor Chum. I had at least two DVD’s that I wanted to present. One was a Khmer soap opera about AIDS named “Palace of Dreams,” and the other was film about contemporary Cambodian society called “Les Gens de la Rizière” (The Rice Farmers). The Peace Corps gave all the volunteers a copy of the first film back in February during our mid-service training session. Their expressed interest in giving us a free copy was that we show it to everyone in the community. I took it back with me to site, and made a few inquiries about borrowing a TV or a projector so that I could present it to a large number of people. Nothing seemed promising, so I put the idea aside for a while and focused on other things. Over the summer, I thought about presenting “Palace of Dreams” with perhaps a few other Khmer movies for the enjoyment of the school and the community. World AIDS Day was coming up in December, which gave me all the more reason to make this happen. I included it in the speech I made to the student body at the beginning of the year, and set about obtaining the means to present the films.

However, getting someone to lend me any amount of equipment proved impossible. Other volunteers had told me that they had been able to show the movie through borrowing a TV or a projector from people in the community. Despite having a pretty good relationship with some of the other NGO’s in town, my efforts to obtain what I needed were fruitless. The problem is that TV’s and projectors happen to be worth hundreds of dollars, and no one is willing to let them out of their sight for fear of losing them. I cannot say I really blame them given my recent experience with the guppy farm. If people are going to steal something as small and as useful as a mosquito eating fish for their own entertainment, there is no limit to what they are capable of.

Distraught, I sought advice from the other teachers at the school. They mentioned that the local wat sometimes presents movies, and that I should go and talk to the abbot there. This made me a little nervous. When I first the met the abbot of Wat Char Chuk, I sat before him on the floor of his office while he smiled and chain smoked a pack of Alain Delon cigarettes. He spoke to me, but I was transfixed by the spectacle happening behind his giant bald head; a giant fish was gnawing viciously at the remains of a dead frog. I nodded politely and said the customary “Bat…” at the right intervals when he made his speech welcoming me to Angkor Chum, but I could not take my eyes off that fish the entire time he was speaking. It had to be a sign, a very bad sign.

Since then, I have made the occasional visit to the wat during festivals or to chat with the monks. When I went to see the abbot about presenting some movies, I was a rarely seen but familiar face there. After greeting each other, I explained what I wanted to do. The abbot sounded enthusiastic, and wanted to show the movies in a little more than a week. While I was glad to have the support, I asked him how much it would cost to rest the projector and the screen. He said that it was cost between thirty and forty dollars, which I thought was okay. I said that I would try and fund-raise for a week in the community and see what I could come up with, and we left it at that.

The next week I was at school when the abbot summoned me to the wat. A twelve-year-old boy on a motorcycle rolled up to the window of the school offices where I was working and said I had to go see the abbot immediately. Unsure of why this was happening, I made my counterpart, Mr. Nou, come with me so I would have an ally there. It was almost like making a friend go with you to the principal’s office to vouch for you. Both of us went to the wat and the found the abbot sitting on wooden platform underneath the shade of an enormous gnarled tree. We greeted him and sat with our legs tucked under ourselves for almost five minutes before he spoke to us.

The abbot was in the middle of giving a series of injections to a number of small of birds in his collection. I was not sure what the medicine was, but there was white liquid in the syringe that resembled the empty can of sterilized milk on the ground. The abbot pulled a packet of cigarettes from within his orange robes, lit one, puffed on it for a few moments, and said that he wanted $120 from me. Otherwise, the movie would not go forward. I asked him why the price was so high. He gave me a five-minute explanation that basically amounted to “things came up.” The entire time he spoke, I was trying to remind myself that I was talking to a senior monk, and not a businessman or a mafia figure. Mr. Nou spoke to me in English, which the abbot does not speak, and advised that the abbot was seeking funds to build the new vihira (church) that was still under construction. This was why he was pressing for more money, and doing it with a used-car salesman smile. I smiled back at him, and politely told him that I did not have the money. My counterpart explained to him that I was a volunteer, without any access to the capital he was seeking. The abbot seemed disappointed by this, and he seemed to sink inside his robes a little. I presented a few ways in which we could raise that kind of money for him from the community, but these were all dismissed as soon as I explained them. Frustrated, I started to glance over towards where my bicycle was parked. I think all of us were ready to walk away from the deal if it had not been for one last idea. The abbot suggested that we could use the movies as part of one of the movie nights, but on several conditions:

1. Adrian has to make a sizable donation to the wat. (I offered $25, and this was acceptable)
2. Adrian has to make a speech detailing the importance of the movies to the community. (I agreed, this was not a problem)
3. A photograph of Adrian and the abbot has to taken and shown to people in America so that people will know that supporting Buddhism is a good cause. (A little strange, but okay I guess)

I agreed to all of these terms. Both Mr. Nou and I wanted to set a date for the movie night, but the abbot was against it. He said that he would set something up, and let us know a few days in advance. As a show of good faith, I gave him the movies I wanted to show.

Three weeks have passed since that day. I went to go and see the abbot recently, but he ignored me the entire time I was there. I do not know if the movie will ever happen now. All that effort was essentially for nothing, but at least I know that abbot better.