In the early morning hours this week, while most of Phnom Penh was
still asleep, vendors gathered in front of Wat Lanka to sell plates with
fruits, sticky rice and paper cuttings vaguely resembling human beings
in different colors.
A
woman holds a plate with offerings of sticky rice, fruits and a paper
cutting during a Bos Bay Ben ceremony at Wat Lanka. (Siv Channa)
One of the vendors, a girl of about 12 years old wearing short jeans
and a pink T-shirt, was standing on Sihanouk Boulevard, holding up one
of the $2 plates with her right hand while trying to cover her yawn with
her left.
It was 3:30 a.m., and since October 1, the first day of the annual
15-day-long Pchum Ben celebration, Buddhists have flocked to pagodas
across the country hours before sunrise to honor their ancestors—by
feeding them sticky rice.
In Cambodian Buddhism, Pchum Ben marks the time of the year when the
ghosts of seven generations of ancestors walk the earth again, and both
good and bad ghosts have to be pleased with food offerings, which must
be blessed in the Bos Bay Ben ceremony first.
It took almost one hour for the roughly 200 people to gather in front
of Wat Lanka’s main Buddha statue. Sitting along a low, room-long table
topped with big baskets of fruits, a few people who prematurely lit
incense sticks were admonished by a monk.
“Don’t light your incense before we go outside to throw the sticky
rice, otherwise the whole room will be filled with smoke,” said Chhun
Rithisak, who has been a monk for more than 20 years.
“You might even set your own clothes on fire, then you will be upset
and blame it on the pagoda. Also, our carpet is very expensive,” the
monk continued, speaking through a microphone.
While the mood among younger people in their 20s appeared to be
easygoing and fun, making jokes with their friends, the older ones were
taking Bos Bay Ben more seriously and made sure that their plates looked
just perfect. But as about 30 monks entered the room, all went quiet,
awaiting the beginning of the ceremony. For most of them, coming to the
pagoda so early was primarily tradition.
“I came here with my uncle and three friends, just to follow and
practice our traditions. It’s the way my parents have showed me, but it
doesn’t make me feel any different,” said 23-year-old Thay Huoycheng who
lives near the city’s Kandal Market. She added, with a smirk, that she
did not believe in ghosts.
For 55-year-old Kien Serey Phal from 7 Makara district, Bos Bay Ben
serves multiple purposes, although she does not believe that pleasing
ghosts is one of them.
“It’s important to bring the younger generation here and teach them
about Buddhism and about how to be grateful to your parents,” she said,
looking at her two nieces next to her. “Also, coming here is an
emotional support for me, because it reminds me of my childhood,” when
Ms. Serey Phal celebrated Bos Bay Ben with her parents. “They died
during the Khmer Rouge, and coming here brings back good memories.”
Dok Narin, secretary of state for the Ministry of Cults and Religion, said that this was exactly the spirit of Pchum Ben.
“It’s a time of the year when families come together and remember
their deceased parents or grandparents and the seven generations of
ancestors,” he said, adding that Pchum Ben was typically Cambodian.
“It’s unique and special to Cambodia, it’s our tradition,” Mr. Narin
said, pointing out that other Buddhist countries do not follow such a
tradition.
Sombo Manara, a historian and expert on religion at the Royal
University of Phnom Penh confirmed, in fact, that Pchum Ben is not a
Buddhist rite.
“It dates back somewhere between 4,000 B.C. and the first century,
when people showed their respect and gratitude to their ancestors in a
ceremony,” Mr. Manara said, adding that when Buddhism was introduced in
Cambodia, the original ceremony was simply adapted to the new belief.
“That’s the reason why other Buddhist countries don’t celebrate it.”
The ceremony at Wat Lanka began with the lead monk chanting into a microphone.
As the other monks repeated his words, the devout placed the palms of
their hands together in prayer, facing the golden Buddha statue.
Ms. Serey Phal adjusted her plate of sticky rice—one of the few that
were homemade—as a young monk in one of the back rows, wearing
gold-framed glasses, yawned continuously.
“I am a Buddhist, so I believe in ghosts,” said But Bun, 74, who
lives at Wat Lanka and works there as an achar—an older man who has
acquired a lot of knowledge on Buddhism and helps the monks with
carrying out ceremonies as a layman.
“I once saw a ghost in a pagoda, when I was about 10 years old. It
was really big and scary, but when I screamed, my friends came running
and the ghost disappeared,” he said.
As the second prayer began, the worshippers turned to face the lead
monks, who chanted together with a group of achars sitting at the head
of a long table that separated the two groups, one side dressed in
orange monks robes, and the other side, members of the public, were
dressed in light-colored shirts and shiny white blouses.
At the end of the chanting, everyone yelled the names of their ancestors—as many as they could remember.
“You have to do it very loud,” said Chhun Rithisak, the lead monk.
“It’s like when you send a letter, you also have to write the correct
address very clearly, or it will not reach the recipient.”
Then, under the watch of all the monks, people flocked outside, where
the achars had set up a circle of chairs with bowls on them all around
the temple.
Carefully, people opened the plastic wrappers on their fruit plates
and rice bowls, lit incense, and started to make their ghost offerings
by placing in each receptacle a little bit of sticky rice or fruit.
Later, the ghosts of their ancestors come and dine from the bowls.
“We believe that ghosts and spirits are afraid of the sun light, so
we celebrate Bos Bay Ben before sunrise,” Chhun Rithisak said.
After walking three rounds around the pagoda, as is tradition, some of the worshippers left to have breakfast.
Others stayed a bit longer to pray or to donate money to a wooden
ship, which people believe takes them and their ancestors to a better
life.
Ms. Serey Phal said that believing that the spirits of the dead
returned during the Bos Bay Ben ceremony was up to the individual. And
just like her two nieces, they can decide for themselves later.
“I brought them here for the ceremony, but I am not forcing a belief on them,” Ms. Serey Phal said.
“They can choose what they want to believe in, whether it’s Buddhism,
Christianity, or Islam,” she said, before returning to her prayer.
(Additional reporting by Kuch Naren)
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