As I was a kid, I tried to memorize the Khmer language through my great-grandmother and grandmother. I have somewhat heard that our family stems from the “Asipong”, a family that has been living in Prang Ku District in Sisaket Province for a long time.
The Memories of My Khmer Roots
“Language is one of the things that can tell you about the origins of ethnicity, more deeply than only saying that ‘you are Thai.’” Atithep Chanthet invites you to explore your roots before everything disappears.
Story by Atithep Chanthet
Story of Khmer-Lao
Location: Khukhan, Sisaket
Originally, this family might have relocated from the area of Phimai Subdistrict, Dong Kam Met Subdistrict, Nong Yao Village, Kham Village, and Rahan Village. From there, they scattered and settled down in various districts in Sisaket Province.
My grandfather is Laotian, originally from Non Din Daeng District in Buriram Province. It was said that he had moved to Prang Ku District, Sisaket Province. There was a Laotian village adjacent to my grandfather’s. Later, my grandmother married my grandfather. The two then moved to earn a living in Thai-Cambodian border in Phu Sing Subdistrict, which later became Khukhan District, Sisaket Province.
My house lies 20 km. from the border with the Phanom Dong Rak range acting as natural demarcation drawing parallel lines between Cambodia’s Oddar Meanchey Province and Preah Vihear Province and Thailand’s Phu Sing Khun Han District and Kantharalak District.
Crossing to a neighboring country like Cambodia always seems like something you need to be cautious about. I regularly hear that the border area is a red zone. This is a myth created by the central state. Try to conjure images of the border areas from the media, you will see an area with drug smuggling activities, casinos, prostitution, and endless rows of territorial conflicts. Everything is negative.
However, in reality, locals have nothing against each other. They have always been crossing the border back and forth
However, in reality, locals have nothing against each other. They have always been crossing the border back and forth. My grandfather told me that during 1987-1997, he was a merchant around the border area. During the Khmer Rouge War, thousands of Khmer people had to flee the war to Thai side. People in Thailand also helped them with food. Or another example, during the rainy season, the villagers searched for food in the forest of the Phanom Dong Rak range. Sometimes, they got lost and accidentally ended up on the other side. If Cambodian soldiers or villagers found villagers from Thailand, they would accompany them back safely.
The border, along with the people who live there, has been vilified, instead of portraying it as an area of cultural, ethnic, and linguistic diversity.
The community around Tonle Sap Lake in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, during my field work to collect data about food security of the urban poor. Image taken in April 2018.
In the beginning of 2018, I had an opportunity to travel to Cambodia. The conversations and cultural exchanges with the locals in Phnom Penh served as a strong precursor for me to re-examine my own roots.
We talked about the Khmer language including the dialect of Oddar Meanchey - Preah Vihear - Siem Reap, a language spoken by the ancient people during the Angkor Wat era. This old language resembles the one spoken by the people living around the Phanom Dong Rak range, my hometown. The accent is very similar. During my work in Siem Reap, I was able to communicate with the locals there better than in the capital.
Some vocabularies are pronounced the same way as people in Surin do. For instance, “Au Kun Cheraown”, which means “thank you very much”, is pronounced by Cambodian people as “au-kun-chen” and not “au-kun-cha-raown” as in Surin. So, it came to no surprise that Phnom Penh people do not understand it. A portion of villagers in Siem Reap, however, still use this old way of pronunciation, similar to the Khmer in Thailand.
Pan Asipong (left) and Saman Rahan (right), my late grandfather and grandmother in 2006.
Phnom Penh people call the people in the northeastern (Thai) plateau as “Surin Khmer people”. I am also referred to as Surin Khmer, which is one of the Khmer ethnic groups who lives above the Phanom Dong Rak range. I am a Khmer on the Thai side. Not every Khmer word in Thailand can be used to communicate with people in Phnom Penh.
Do they understand some of it? At least for the elderly Khmer people, partly. However, for those my age, they hardly do because words differ. The younger generation in Phnom Penh, such as Mr. Kim, a friend of mine from the Phnom Penh Institute of Technology, cannot understand Surin Khmer at all. He explained that the modern Khmer has been refined for uniqueness and formality.
For instance, Surin people say “man-mian-stang, which means “I don’t have money”, and is understood by many people in the southern-northeastern provinces of Thailand. On the other hand, Phnom Penh people say “ot-mian-loy”, a very different way of conveying the same meaning.
In terms of the changes of the Surin Khmer language spoken in many southern northeastern provinces, I am not sure when people have started to incorporate the Thai language, when old vernaculars were lost, or to what extent the new generation still uses it. While I have chosen Laotian as the main language, other Thai-Khmer, Thai-Lao, or Thai-Kuy youths opt for Thai as it is the official language used in schools and it prevents from being labeled as Khmer, Laotian, Kuy, or Suay, etc.
I have observed that as a child, whenever I visited my grandmother’s hometown, she would only speak Khmer. Perhaps it was because she was raised in a Khmer family, where Lao was a secondary language. As such, she always talked to me in Khmer because she wanted me to absorb it.
As a mixed child, who grew up in a Laotian-speaking village, my Laotian language knowledge came from the environment. As a result, I can understand Khmer and Lao, while Thai is my most-enunciated language.
The expansion of the cultural space among various ethnicities in the southern Northeast region is very common. Culture and ethnicity, though similar, are not the same thing.
The expansion of the cultural space among various ethnicities in the southern Northeast region is very common. Culture and ethnicity, though similar, are not the same thing. Khmer people learn about the Laotian’s Heet Sib Song – Klong Sib See traditions and Laotian people learn about the Khmer’s Saen Don Ta festival. People learn and exchange from one another all the time.
This expansion also demonstrates ethnic diversity and ability for different ethnic groups to co-exist alongside each other. Crossing ethnicity requires us to choose a language to communicate. If your grandparents were Khmer and Suay, your mother would understand both the languages. However, people in my generation can hardly understand these languages anymore.
When local languages are banned in class, most students have to learn how to read, write, and speak Thai. A Laotian son with a stiff tongue like me was often teased by the teacher that I was a “Laotian son with a stiff tongue”
Another problem in my generation is that local languages are prohibited in schools. This seems to be the case in Thai language class only. When local languages are banned in class, most students have to learn how to read, write, and speak Thai. A Laotian son with a stiff tongue like me was often teased by the teacher that I was a “Laotian son with a stiff tongue”. I had to clearly differentiate between “r” and “l”. On the other hand, my Khmer classmates were able to pronounce the “r” and “l” very fluently and skillfully. Teachers also teased them as a Khmer son.
As a kid, I felt that speaking Thai was strange and difficult thing to learn. It was even more strange when I returned home and had to speak Thai with my family because I could not communicate with them in Thai. So, if I had to, I often felt embarrassed and awkward. I speak Lao at home these days.
Still, some of my high school friends used Khmer to communicate in their everyday life and some teachers even used it in schools. Nevertheless, nowadays I rarely hear Khmer or Laotian in schools anymore, except in small chitchats.
Regardless of the region you are in, knowing a local language is considered an academic advantage. It can be used to communicate with people in neighboring countries. If there is enough support from the school or government policy, local languages can be promoted as an equally important language in the community.
If there is enough support from the school or government policy, local languages can be promoted as an equally important language in the community.
Language and culture do not only show cross-border cultural diversity, but can also suggest one’s root and ethnic background. To know one’s own roots and to learn one’s own history are the most precious things.
Having the chance to reflect on my own roots allows me to explore stories in the neighboring Cambodia more easily. Languages connect people endlessly, especially in a modern world where borders still matter.
Atithep Chanthet, a Laotian-Khmer boy who was born and raised in Sisaket Province. He works as a photographer and documentary producer in Isaan. This article was written during his stay in Phnom Penh in 2019.
Written by
Atithep Chanthet
Laotian-Khmer boy born and raised in Sisaket. He works as a photographer and documentary producer in Isaan
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