Dominoes with Alligators

by Ryan Hook (Canada)

I didn't expect to find Cambodia

Travelling often welcomes many stories. But sometimes, you are the story. This is that story. It was morning when I got into a taxi heading from Siem Reap, Cambodia, towards Angkor Wat - a true wonder of the world. The driver talked a lot and had a good energy. He offered me a “good deal,” which included a day of “Angkor Wat, a friend’s farm, the bars, then home.” Sounded fine. I was alone, it was my first day, and it seemed like an authentic Cambodian experience. I agreed as we pulled into Angkor Wat. I was stunned. The natural order growing one with civilization was godlike. The ancient city, a grand hypothesis, was most fascinating. It must be seen to be believed. Therefore, after hours of walking and wondering, my driver and I left the sacred city, unscathed. My body was telling me to take a nap, but my gut wanted to explore. I asked him where to go now and like an even more excited Jar Jar Binks he said, “Friend’s farm, lotsa beer!” Beer helps. We drove off. I put my hat over my face and fell asleep until the sound of a metal gate pierced my dreams. We were still in the city. I wondered what they farmed. The gate opened and about ten Cambodian locals stood clinking beers together around a table. My driver introduced me and asked if I wanted to play a game that looked like dominoes. I agreed. He grabbed two beers next to the fridge where a monkey in a bow tie sat, chained, smoking a cigarette. The games began. I bet money, I won money, I lost money, and I didn’t have a clue why. I knew if I drank beer and I bet money I’d be accepted. So, I did. I high-fived my new friends and my driver’s smile got bigger and more gap toothed. Everyone was having fun. Even the monkey. But then the locals got quiet and I got butterflies. Maybe I won too much. The monkey started screeching and someone gave it a cigarette which shut him up. I asked my driver what was going on. “Bets, bets” he said. The crowd shut up and one of the men grabbed my arm and ushered me around the farm of mostly concrete and shacks. I again wondered what they farmed. “Here,” The usher pointed at a wicker basket of chickens. I shrugged, “Not me.” “Take, Take.” The usher grabbed one’s talons. The other locals waited behind us near a flight of concrete steps. The driver pushed the chicken at me, "Take." “No, I already ate, thank you.” “Take. Take!” I barely held on to the fluttering chicken. Yet, I still held on to the closest living relative to a T-Rex. I don’t know why that helps, but it does. The usher grabbed my arm tight and rushed me up the concrete stairs. At the top I looked down into a pit of moving and breathing mud. I finally realized what they farmed: alligators. The usher pointed at the chicken, at myself, and then the alligator pit - a wholly messed up trinity. The crowd went wild. Talk about peer pressure. I cocked the chicken. If the chicken wasn’t going in, something was, and I was sure I'd be the one walking out of those gates. I reached my arm out. The chicken dangled while the crowd cheered louder. I dropped it and the gluttonous mud snakes jolted forward. From my godlike point of view, the murder was clean. If it wasn’t, it was just soap for this murder mud bath. The locals buzzed with laughter and the few that weren’t handed money over to my driver. “What’s that?” I asked. My driver looked yellow in the eyes and said, “Bets.” *** Travelling also welcomes dreams come true. We hypothesize a place where nature and civilization live holistically, and sometimes we find them. Other times, we’re just animals playing dress up, like monkeys smoking cigarettes. Games keep us from killing each other over boredom. My driver dropped me off that day and ignored my goodbye. No time for goodbyes when you're looking for the next chicken to play dominoes with alligators.