The French mother navigating the capital in her own personal tuk-tuk
FRENCH woman Cecile Dahome gracefully manoeuvres her tuk-tuk through the manic streets of Phnom Penh with the precision of a Japanese katana before a herd of motorcyclists, attempting to perform illegal U-turns, cuts her off.
The riders, like baby ducklings following their mother’s tracks, grant themselves right of way, bringing traffic to a standstill on Sisowath Quay.
“It’s times like these you wish you had those magic shells [as seen in computer game Mario Kart] to throw at people,” Cecile says in jest.
In fact, the 37-year-old likened the entire experience of driving a tuk-tuk in Phnom Penh to “playing a game of Mario Kart”.
She bought her white, threewheeled, four-stroke, Indian-made Bajaj Re Mk II straight from the showroom on the very week it became available in Cambodia nearly two and a half years ago.
While t he MK II is certainly a step-up from its predecessor – with its increased storage capacit y, t he addition of a reverse gear and improved build qualit y – Cecile says her relationship wit h t he tuk-tuk was initia lly ver y much a marriage of convenience.
The tuk-tuk, she says, is her t hird attempt at tr y ing to secure a safe, env ironmentally friendly and costef fective way to nav igate t he capita l’s clogged and chaotic streets.
First, she had a bicycle, but Cecile says she quickly learned she couldn’t continue showing up to business meetings drenched in sweat.
Next, she and her husband bought scooters, but upon learning that she was pregnant, Cecile k new she had to find a safer way to get around t he cit y t hat wouldn’t jeopardise t he baby’s wellbeing.
A car wasn’t on the cards, says Cecile, not least due to t he cost of purchasing and insuring one, as well as the time she would waste in Phnom Penh’s famously bad traffic jams and the negative env ironmental impact.
As the founder of Sevea Consulting – which assists NGOs and stakeholders on environmental, humanitarian and infrastructure projects meant to improve the livelihoods of everyday Cambodians, particularly those in rural communities – she says she couldn’t justify the environmental impact of having a car.
“The initial intention was not to be a model [citizen], the initial intention was really security for my family. But after having driven it for two years now, I really think that it should be a way of commuting that should be more accepted by everyone … because it pollutes a lot less,” Cecile says of her liquefied petroleum gas-powered machine.
At a petrol station near Central Market, Cecile’s tidily groomed Pomeranian dog Lilou more closely resembles toy than beast as it basks in the attention of attendants and curious passersby who crane their necks
to see what all the fuss is about.
The curiosit y and crowds are an inev itable rea lit y for Cecile; it isn’t ever yday t hat a foreigner is seen at the pumps filling up a tuk-tuk, much less a woman.
Later on, at the corner of Sothearos and Sihanouk boulevards, a curious lady pulls her motorbike alongside Cecile’s tuk-tuk with a broad grin.
Moments earlier both women had been shopping at a nearby convenience store where the motorcyclist had snapped a picture of Lilou in the back seat with her mobile phone.
“Really? It’s yours?” asks the commuter while keeping an eye on the traffic lights.
Cecile says that this is one of her favourite things about driving a tuk-tuk in Phnom
Penh – the reaction from locals.
“Honestly, one of my favourite things about driving a tuktuk is the reaction from people . . . before we bought it we asked a bunch of people – locals [Cambodians], tuk-tuk drivers, foreigners as well – and everyone said it was just a great idea,” says Cecile. “The interesting part is that I have both Cambodians and foreigners asking me ‘How much did I buy it for? Is it safe?’ When I tell them that I bought it for around $2,500 and it’s now [selling for] $3,500 — they really become quite interested.” Beyond the convenience, safety and cost, Cecile also sees her tuk-tuk as a way of life and a message to others.
“It has become a way to show people that you can do things differently without having to compromise so much on your way of life.
“That’s my day-to-day job, convincing people that things need to change, but things cannot happen in one day. So how can you mitigate the impact of your day to day life? Driving a tuktuk actually is one!” she says.