Monk shower

Recently I had been feeling a little below par. My khmer teacher/Cambodian mother - S - had picked up on this (perhaps it was all the crying in my lessons) & after a long discussion with her sister in France it was decided that I needed Buddha in my life. I was given a children's book about Buddha & told to read it every day until I did so. It was about Buddha's life story rather than the Buddhist scriptures, these a fellow VSO volunteer had already once passed on to me.  S's book reminded me very much of a children's bible my Grandparents had once given me.

There was a particularly good story about a man coming up to Buddha & denouncing him. Buddha said "If you give someone a gift which they to don't accept, then who does that gift belong to?" The man replied "Me of course" Buddha told him "Your anger is the same as that gift, if I do not accept your anger or let you insult me then the anger only belongs & stays with you." - I liked that story very much, it resonated like a bell.

S was also convinced that what I needed was a ritual which I can best describe as a 'monk shower' - she thought this would help my bad thoughts & break the 'spell' that had been cast on me - it would only cost 5000R. In my home economics room at school there was a poster that read "Try every thing in life once & the good things twice" - with this in mind I found myself this Sunday going to the local Pagoda to have a monk shower.

Now my anxiety levels really started to rise when S came to by house & suggested I wear a swimming costume, my nightdress, normal clothes over it & also bring a towel. The reason for this would soon become apparent. 

S, me & K (who is currently staying with me) all cycled off to get me cleansed by a monk shower. When we arrived at the Pagoda there was a lot of young monks shouting "Hello!" which brought my anxiety levels up a notch. In a corner of the Pagoda was a small building, with a old monk & a Buddha shrine, where I was instructed to remove my shoes, take a bunch of flowers that S had bought & put them in a vase by the statue of Buddha. I then had to sit with 5 sticks of burning incense, head bowed, palms together & think. Once I had thought about all my friends & family's health & happiness, as well as the reason I have been feeling below par, I then was told by S to put the incense in a pot outside - stepping on a solitary molar tooth on the way - not sure why but I think this is a necessary if somewhat odd detail to this story. 

I then had to give a little orange candle & 10000R note (Barang prices even apply at the Pagoda) to the venerable monk who gave me a blessing whilst I struggled to sit with the soles of my feet facing away from Buddha but bowing 3 times facing him. I really need to take up yoga.

I was then ushered to the side of the building where S instructed me to take off my T-shirt & shorts revealing my nightie underneath. I sat down on a wooden platform on the floor & a young monk came to do what I can most accurately describe as Buddhist water boarding.

A full big bucket of water was scooped & poured over my head. The water was cold & my ability to breath was impaired. A sense of real panic began to rise & I started to splutter & choke. Then something odd & spiritual happened - well it was either that or hypoxia & a near death experience. I felt a very intense fullness in my head & chest followed by a sense release and then an over whelming calmness. Despite this the water boarding continued for a few more minutes after this but at least I was able to breath by then. 

At the end the monk - who it turns out was fluent in english - said "that's all - thank you!" so I got up & slopped over to where S & K had been sat waiting watching monks take normal showers or as K would later describe it as a Cambodian monk version of the Peter Andre mysterious girl video. I am not the only one with bad thoughts!

S dragged me to a small corrugated roofless shack to dry off & change but stopped me at the entrance & declared "Sorry - I need to wee" before disappearing into what I could be forgiven for thinking was a squat toilet. Only when she had finished & called me in to join her was I aware that it wasn't a toilet & she had just wee-ed on the concrete floor of a changing room. I would live to be 105 & I would still never really understand khmers.

Changing back into my shorts & T-shirt I began to understand S's suggestion of a swimming costume rather than the normal underwear I had opted for. Mounting our bikes to leave I pointed to the wet-see-through-boob-marks on my T-shirt to S who promptly indicated this wasn't appropriate with monks in the vicinity.

It looks like it will take more than a child's book & one monk shower to make me a better person....

Post monk shower - please note the hands