By Bronwyn Sloan
DPA
Advocates always believed information technology (IT) could revolutionize rural Cambodia, but no one predicted traditions going high-tech in this sleepy rural town 300 kilometres north of the capital - and not everyone approves.
Although officially illegal, rain gambling is a way of life in north-western Battambang. Every monsoon, tens of thousands of dollars are wagered on weather, and for centuries players have painstakingly analyzed wind, clouds and their own gut instincts to guess at exactly what hour the rains might arrive and soak a designated marker.
Then, three years ago, a rain gambler's son opened an internet café for tourists, introduced his father's friends to internet weather forecast sites as a by-product, and accidentally overnight catapulted the ancient guessing game into a brave new world of satellites, systems and five-day forecasts.
"Internet is a valuable tool. It is a very good idea," says a rain gambler who calls himself Hy. "The traditionalists say we shouldn't use it, but I don't see why not. Besides, many of them complain publicly that using the internet is cheating, but we know that in private they use it too."
Unusually for poverty-stricken Cambodia, where computer literacy remains dismally low and computer technology largely the domain of middle class urban youth, in Battambang even elderly farmers now huddle expertly around computers instead of scanning the skies.
However, despite trying for years with only moderate success to pique wider public interest, this particular bonanza of converts has failed to please many IT proponents. Sorn Bunna of the not-for-profit Community Information Center (CIC) calls the use of technology for financially motivated weather watching "regrettable."
Funded by the local religious aid organization Buddhism for Development, CIC was set up to provide affordable public internet access for wholesome activities such as online small business research and self-education on social issues like human rights. But local rain gamblers have other priorities.
Although facilitating gambling is strictly against the organization's mandate, privately CIC supervisors admit policing is difficult. Banning donor-funded pornographic web surfing, for instance, is simple. Outlawing meteorological sites, especially in a farming community, is next to impossible.
"We can only try to educate them that this is not a good use of this opportunity," Bunna concedes.
Loak Chay, 68, has bet on rain for 40 years. He agrees with Bunna that the internet has no place in his venerable sport, claiming it destroys its integrity. But more worryingly, he says, it has also changed its demographics. Once almost exclusively a male domain, the internet revolution has brought new contenders.
"Even women bet now, and they are strong - sometimes stronger than the men," Chay admits. He also claims that blind belief in technology has lulled many fellow gamblers into a false sense of security, cleaning out technophiles more often than traditionalist counterparts.
But despite concerns, some, like Cambodian-based IT expert Kelly Hutchinson, say the internet-inspired rain gambling boom may yet have a silver lining.
Although not condoning the unusual niche IT has carved in Battambang, she says the fact that people from all walks of life have found a use for computers in their daily lives is a positive that should ultimately be taken from the situation.
"No one is saying gambling is good for society. However, my research has shown that people will not embrace new technology unless they have first found a way of applying it in their everyday lives," she says.
"So on the bright side, ordinary people have found their own social application for IT. Hopefully that will help them make the leap to understanding the wider IT potential and being successfully introduced to less divisive, more positive applications in the future.
"I suppose the lesson here is that you can give people the gift of technology, but like any gift, once given, you can't control how they use it."
Although officially illegal, rain gambling is a way of life in north-western Battambang. Every monsoon, tens of thousands of dollars are wagered on weather, and for centuries players have painstakingly analyzed wind, clouds and their own gut instincts to guess at exactly what hour the rains might arrive and soak a designated marker.
Then, three years ago, a rain gambler's son opened an internet café for tourists, introduced his father's friends to internet weather forecast sites as a by-product, and accidentally overnight catapulted the ancient guessing game into a brave new world of satellites, systems and five-day forecasts.
"Internet is a valuable tool. It is a very good idea," says a rain gambler who calls himself Hy. "The traditionalists say we shouldn't use it, but I don't see why not. Besides, many of them complain publicly that using the internet is cheating, but we know that in private they use it too."
Unusually for poverty-stricken Cambodia, where computer literacy remains dismally low and computer technology largely the domain of middle class urban youth, in Battambang even elderly farmers now huddle expertly around computers instead of scanning the skies.
However, despite trying for years with only moderate success to pique wider public interest, this particular bonanza of converts has failed to please many IT proponents. Sorn Bunna of the not-for-profit Community Information Center (CIC) calls the use of technology for financially motivated weather watching "regrettable."
Funded by the local religious aid organization Buddhism for Development, CIC was set up to provide affordable public internet access for wholesome activities such as online small business research and self-education on social issues like human rights. But local rain gamblers have other priorities.
Although facilitating gambling is strictly against the organization's mandate, privately CIC supervisors admit policing is difficult. Banning donor-funded pornographic web surfing, for instance, is simple. Outlawing meteorological sites, especially in a farming community, is next to impossible.
"We can only try to educate them that this is not a good use of this opportunity," Bunna concedes.
Loak Chay, 68, has bet on rain for 40 years. He agrees with Bunna that the internet has no place in his venerable sport, claiming it destroys its integrity. But more worryingly, he says, it has also changed its demographics. Once almost exclusively a male domain, the internet revolution has brought new contenders.
"Even women bet now, and they are strong - sometimes stronger than the men," Chay admits. He also claims that blind belief in technology has lulled many fellow gamblers into a false sense of security, cleaning out technophiles more often than traditionalist counterparts.
But despite concerns, some, like Cambodian-based IT expert Kelly Hutchinson, say the internet-inspired rain gambling boom may yet have a silver lining.
Although not condoning the unusual niche IT has carved in Battambang, she says the fact that people from all walks of life have found a use for computers in their daily lives is a positive that should ultimately be taken from the situation.
"No one is saying gambling is good for society. However, my research has shown that people will not embrace new technology unless they have first found a way of applying it in their everyday lives," she says.
"So on the bright side, ordinary people have found their own social application for IT. Hopefully that will help them make the leap to understanding the wider IT potential and being successfully introduced to less divisive, more positive applications in the future.
"I suppose the lesson here is that you can give people the gift of technology, but like any gift, once given, you can't control how they use it."
1 comment:
YES!how can they play in the future if every one know the same answer?
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