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My ten-year-old host cousin Sainol is squatting under the shade of the spare house caddycorner to my own - the house that his mother used to occupy before moving to Saudi Arabia two years ago.
The wooden living space is build atop of tall stilts to accommodate rainy season floods. The open ground-level area is used for storing stacks of wood planks for my host uncle’s furniture business. In the unoccupied space lies chicken cages in a variety of shapes, sizes, and materials. Some rest on old shelves and tables my cousin has salvaged from the family and some sit directly on the dusty ground. Some are wire, some wicker, some wooden crate.
The chickens range as wildly as the assortment of cages – shining, proud, colorful cocks, black-and-white spotted feathered hens, small, scrappy-looking brown chickens of indeterminate gender, impossibly fluffy and small chicks. And yes, even pigeons and ducks.
Sainol is carefully arranging his chickens into various cages in a science I cannot yet comprehend. He holds the fragile chicks with one hand, gently and tenderly, as he coos and places them with the mother hen. To the handsome males, he squawks at that as he separates them in large dome-like cages. He arranges and rearranges, every day, twice a day, when it's time to cage them after hours of roaming free around the houses.
Sainol takes care of the chickens along with my younger host brother, Rafat. But Sainol is only one up first thing in the morning, coaxing them out of their cages and nesting areas with a gentle (startlingly hen-like) coo, feeding them, and accounting for all chicks, hens, and roosters. Sometimes, I see him squatting inside the larger cages, fixing and cleaning and meticulously maintaining.
Sainol takes great pride in his work raising the family’s chickens – he pays attention to detail, he has a feel the instincts of the animals and when to separate them or keep them together, he coordinates the mating of the colorful roosters with the pearly white-feathered hens.
And yet sometimes, when I walk home from the health center around eleven for my lunch break, I see a small crowd of kids (including Sainol, yes) gathered around one of the adult women in my family. Naturally curious, I would walk over too and join the small group. As I approached, I would see that she is hacking away at the chicken with a huge butcher knife, or sometimes, if it has been killed already, they are plucking off the feathers in hot water or cleaning the blood up in preparation for the next meal.
Now, if I see the kids gathered around the table around lunchtime, I don’t go near them anymore.
it's a symbol, ya?
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Like in many low-income countries, many people in rural areas in Cambodia raise animals at their homes – chickens, ducks, cows, and pigs are the norm. In fact, I haven’t seen a house that doesn’t have at least a few chickens running around. My health center even has some as well.
one of the cows that come and go on a weekly basis (our family sells cows to other villagers as a main source of income)
Rather than in the US where most people own animals as pets to be raised, loved, and adored, these animals are raised for the explicit purpose of eating them – something many of you know I am morally opposed to. Raising animals for enjoyment and love is nearly unheard of in rural Cambodia. Sainol may take very good care of his chickens, but he is not raising them for fun or for companionship. They are clearly there to eat. Some families have dogs that hang out around the house and scavenge leftovers, or own cats to take care of the rats. However, it’s very rare to see a clean, healthy-looking house pet outside of major cities. Some people even eat their dogs. When I tell my village family and friends about my dog at home and how we buy him his own food, give him baths, buy him medicine, etc., they are shocked that we treat him as a member of our own family (and even more shocked that we lower ourselves to actually picking up his excrement).
According to Cambodian culture (and many places in Asia), animals are lower than humans on the chain of life. They are dirty, inhuman – they do not think or feel. Animals are referred to as an ‘it’, rather than by a gender. To call someone an animal is a great insult. In Khmer language, there are some verbs that have separate words for humans and for animals. To use the animal words to describe the actions of humans is very rude. For example - to eat, to sleep, to have babies – there are separate words for these actions for animals and for people. This attitude is part of the reason why most Khmer people don’t treat animals like we do in the Western world.
Aside from cultural attitudes towards animals, the bigger factor at play is the availability of expendable income. It is extremely impractical for many households, especially in rural areas, to take care of animals because of the extra cost. Even though economic development in Cambodia has greatly improved in the last few decades, there are still many families struggling to provide adequate resources for their own children. It is unthinkable for many to spend their hard-earned money on a mere animal if that animal is not going to benefit them (like a cow or chicken). There is no room for sympathy for animals – no headspace to even think about it. To purchase food for an animal, or soap, medicine, etc. – is a frivolous and unnecessary expense for those who have difficulty affording nutritious foods.
I used to object to the need to eat animals here – what about tofu? Beans? Other protein sources? As a both a health educator and a vegetarian, I felt uncomfortable encouraging mothers to give their underweight children more animal protein. But, I have come to realize that plant protein sources are simply not accessible here to the extent that animal protein is. You would think, as I did, that because it’s Asia, tofu must be everywhere. In fact, it would be difficult, inconvenient, and more expensive for many families to give up animal protein given that there is nobody selling lentils or tofu in my village and that many families cannot easily access the provincial town market. Many families raise their own animals to save money (and sometimes make money). That lifestyle is not going anywhere soon. A life without animal protein is simply not a likely reality in these circumstances in rural Cambodia, as much as I’d like to hope it so.
titled: Portrait of a Family Cow
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When I tell Khmer people that I do not eat meat, the typical reactions include disbelief, astonishment, and concern for my health. They often cannot fathom why I would ever decide to deprive myself so, and wonder what in the world I actually eat. I’ve learned to use the already existing framework of Buddhism to attempt to explain my dietary choices. Eating ‘mhob bueh’ is literally to eat food according to religion, which, in this case, means animal-free. A central tenet of Buddhism is to ‘do no harm’, which is often taken to apply to animals as well as humans. It often results in giving up animal products. Many Khmer people can understand my choice in this religious framework, which actually describes my values rather well.
Buddhism on display almost everywhere in Cambodia
However, while the majority of Khmer people consider themselves Buddhist, most do not actually eat ‘mhob bueh’. Even many Buddhist monks in Cambodia still eat meat. I have tried to having conversations about this (what I view as hypocrisy) with the answer commonly being ‘well, I’m not killing the animal myself so I’m not doing any harm’. And when I point out that someone else is killing it and by buying the meat you’re supporting it….well, people don’t want to listen. Not surprising. There is a lot of cognitive dissonance at play here. I hope that by having these conversations it will at least plant a small seed of thought. They do have their very legitimate reasons for going against the Buddha's teachings though - it’s expensive and inconvenient to eat vegetarian for the majority of Cambodians.
In light of this, it is even more important to consider your privilege when you choose what to eat. As a resident of a high-income nation, you have many opportunities that rural Cambodians do not. Many Americans are extremely food-secure: you have ample, consistent access to high-quality foods and a plethora of choices. You likely have access to a grocery store that has many plant-based protein options, vegetarian options at restaurants, pets that you can afford to take care of, etc. It’s 2018, and it is SO easy to give up animal protein and eat with compassion (the plant protein industry is exploding with so many great alternatives to animal protein!).
If we applied the same level of care and attention for our pets to other animals traditionally considered livestock – cows, chicken, ducks, fish – than not only would there be many, many lives spared and cruel conditions dismantled (I doubt you want to see your dog beaten and tortured for food, so why a pig or cow?) but we would be eliminating an immense amount of greenhouse gases and preventing even more forests being cleared for grazing areas. Not to mention reducing your risk of cancer, heart disease, and other chronic conditions. I’m sure many of you have heard the main arguments by now – I just want to provide a new perspective.
a very happy Asian elephant, freed from the slave labor and cruelty from her past! all animals should be able to experience a life free from torture and forced labor.
You are in a unique position to make a change. The opportunity and accessibility is right in front of you. For some people, eating plant-based diets is not a feasible option – but for you, it is. Use your position of privilege to make a positive change.
Sincerely,
A stubborn vegetarian living in a carnivore's world