Spirit House in Cambodia

I am not afraid of ghosts. Except when I’m alone. At night. In Cambodia where millions of people died of genocide in the seventies. Last year, when Honey had to go to the Philippines for work for almost two months, he left me in this kingdom far far away where I was alone. At night. In Cambodia where millions of people died of genocide in the seventies.

How did I manage to stop hyperventilating, prevent the hair at the back of my neck from standing up on end, and sleep during all those lonely nights? One, by multiplying my carbon emissions a hundredfold and turning on all the lights in the apartment at night. Two, by turning on the two televisions full-blast. And three, by comforting myself with the fact that my Cambodian landlady keeps a spirit house in an auspicious place right smack in the middle of the entrance of the apartment building.

Read more in Toe’s Kurokuroatbp.

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