by Lu Yawen
The non-profit organisation Smiling Gecko Cambodia in the Sameakki Mean Chey District of Kampong Chhnang Province feels like a madcap experiment brought to life, partly from the sheer will of its founder, renowned Swiss photographer Hannes Schmid.
Spread out over 150ha of land, a 1.5-hour drive from Phnom Penh, the self-sustainable property contrasts the rural countryside and dusty roads we drive through to get here.
The land has a multipurpose function: It is split among regular and vertical farming lots shielded from the relentless sun with green nets, a few large chicken coops, the Smiling Gecko Campus school and kindergarten, staff quarters, a wood and metal workshop, farming plots rented out to locals, an underground wastewater filtration system, man-made reservoirs and lakes (some of which are used as fish farms), the Farmhouse hotel with a swimming pool and spa, a fine-dining restaurant called Un, and newly completed cultural centre, The Gong.
An imposing circular structure jutting out from otherwise flat land, The Gong, is why I’ve been invited. Built by Atelier oï, an award-winning Swiss multidisciplinary firm, the cultural centre is shaped after the musical instrument and contains an auditorium, a state-of-the-art recording studio, a cafe, and a reception.
An architectural marvel
As Aurel Aebi, one of Atelier oï’s founders, walks us around The Gong amidst the busy preparations for its official opening weekend, it’s evident each design element has been thoroughly considered.
Temperatures at the landlocked Sameakki Mean Chey District rise to 40 deg C in its hottest month, and the arid soil turns sandy. The Gong’s perforated walls, made with locally red bricks, allow a constant flow of air from three entry points while letting in natural light that turns into dancing shadows with the sun’s movements.
The roof, curved with the facade, is left uncovered in the middle to create a rainwater catchment system that stores water in a two-metre reservoir on the floor.
The recording studio, one of the few of world-class quality in the entire country, is sheltered from the elements by 20cm concrete walls. Inside its temperature-controlled rooms are acoustic walls made with local rubber wood, crafted on-site by carpenters at Smiling Gecko’s workshop.
Education as the key to breaking the poverty cycle
It is Schmid and co-founder and executive director Ngon Sokleap’s hopes that the cultural centre will be yet another way to uplift Khmer arts and culture in the long run as well as increase the Farmhouse’s guests (all profits go back into the upkeep of the property and school). Sokleap, a professional lawyer, had plans to work in Australia but was roped in by Schmid to join the NGO in 2014.
Since then, it’s been a trial-and-error approach to improving the lives of the surrounding community, comprising subsistence farmers dependent on the volatility of nature. From providing agricultural and farming solutions to offering a montessori- and Cambridge-based education, the pair have added different elements to enrich the project with the help of volunteers and partnerships with universities and experts.
Children from three to 16 years old are taught English and Khmer at school, including the importance of personal hygiene and nutrition. Coming from homes where personal hygiene is a luxury, they start the school day with a shower and brushing their teeth. A large cafeteria with an industrial kitchen prepares their meals, ensuring growing bodies get the nutrition they need.
Keeping tradition alive
Smiling Gecko Cambodia puts forward a very humbling and sobering fact: Arts and culture can only thrive when people can meet their introductory provisions. For a country still recovering from the Khmer Rouge in the late 1900s, celebrating traditional art forms isn’t exactly at the top of everyone’s minds.
Still, the arts must get representation and be kept alive, something 32-year-old Heang Chunn Heng has dedicated his life to. Formerly an architecture student and military man, he’s part of the rising Cambodian middle class who feels a sense of duty and pride for his heritage, much like Sokleap.
He is one of the few musicians who can play the kse muoy, a single-stringed zither made from a hollowed-out gourd, wood, and copper string. A variant of the instrument used by his ancestors during the Khmer Empire can be seen in a 12th- to 13th-century relief carving at Bayon Temple in Siem Reap.
A student of classical music, he found someone who could teach him how to play the kse muoy; after some persuasion and determination, including riding 10km on a motorcycle, only to be told his first lesson was rescheduled. It was a steep learning curve, as even getting the instrument to produce sound required a precise method.
That night, we get to witness Heang perform dressed sharply in formal wear, with a sompot chong kben (a lower body wraparound cloth) and large ornamental gold diamond earrings. The stage is bare, apart from a singular microphone angled over his shoulder. And as the austere yet melancholic music ripples through the amphitheatre, we are silent, breath abated, waiting on every note.