khmer sources

At midnight bright sparks are blown by bellows into the air like fireworks. There is a repeated sound of knocking which is at once fast and then slow. The knocking echoes from one end of the village to the other, making a noise which wakens the still night. The figures of four people appear amidst the sparks. They are holding big hammers and are hitting hot pieces of iron just removed from stoves filled with embers. Each time their hammers hit the red-hot iron, the impact produces flickering sparks which lighten the darkness. Then, the darkened roof of the blacksmith’s workshop flashes like lightening and in this brief moment, we can see their illuminated faces.

A career that has been passed down from generation to generation amongst Muslim Cambodians
Uncle Chea Ris is puffing as he walks out of his workshop. He pulls the krama (cotton scarf) from an end of the roof to wipe his sweaty face and says, "We have been making a living as blacksmiths since we were teenagers–over 20 years now. However, I just became a master about three months ago."

"All the Muslim Cambodians in this village have made their living as blacksmiths for generations and we have always had a tradition of doing our work at night. Because it is cooler than during the day, it is better for those of us who work close to the burning stove," Uncle Chea says.
Uncle Chea is about 40 and says blacksmiths learnt their respective skills from their ancestors. "Some families have a skill of producing axes like me. Some make only knives, while others make spades, hammers, adzes and swords."
He explains that each blacksmith cannot produce every type of tool as the quality of the products would not be as good.
"Even experts in making knives or axes are classified into two to three separate groups. There is a group that is skilled in producing large knives and axes and a group that is skilled in producing smaller sizes. When blacksmiths make a knife or an axe, they usually work together in the workshop in a group of four, so it is easier to shape a piece of iron into the kinds of tools they want. For instance, my group, which makes axes, consists of four men: myself, the master; brother Sos Oun, who is skilled at using a big hammer (this weighs 6kg); brother Ly, who uses a medium sized hammer (5kg) and grandmother Van Chanri, who pumps the air to burn the iron which is then shaped into various tools. Every one of us must work together very hard according to their own skill, otherwise we cannot produce the tools very well.

"My workshop produces medium-sized axe blades weighing between 0.8kg and 1kg. To completely shape an axe blade from a piece of iron, it has to go through one to eight phloeng." A phloeng is when the iron is burned in the stove until it becomes very red and is then taken out and hit. The cycle is repeated eight times before the axe blade is ready for use. "We sell the blades for only 3,300-3,500 riel (83-88 cents) per blade."
"Every night from 12 until 6 in the morning our group can produce 25-30 blades. We make 500-800 riel (13-20 cents) of profit each after deducting the cost of the iron, the charcoal and the labor."
Uncle Sos, 45, is a former blacksmith who now sells iron. "All the people in this village have made their living by producing knives, axes, hammers and diggers since the old times. We neither farm nor fish," he says.
He recalls his childhood: "In the past when a boy proposed to a girl in this village of Chrak Romeat, her parents would only ask the boy if he was a blacksmith. If the boy did not have the skill, he would not be able to marry her even if he was rich or came from another place. This is the reason why every man in this village has this skill.
"Although I am now the seller of iron to the blacksmiths here, on some nights I still spend time with other blacksmiths to try my energy and skill for fun. Every day I have to do my regular work of cutting iron into specific sizes the blacksmiths need."

"Blacksmiths like us," Uncle Sos continues, "will not abandon our skills easily. Even if we look for a new job, it will be at least partly involved with this career. Although most of the villagers here have moved to other provinces far away, they still earn their living as blacksmiths."
A well-known blacksmith master in Chrak Romeat Grandfather Mous Saly, 80, says he can remember when the French came into Cambodia. His ancestors bought iron bars from them to make knives, axes, sickles and adzes.
"I don’t know when my career began. My grandparents just told me that their parents and their grandparents were also blacksmiths. I repeated this to my grandchildren. People of my generation knew how to hit iron into tools since their youth. I got this skill when I was 13 years old," Grandfather Mous says.
Though there are some records, historians are unsure as to when Cambodians–or indeed Muslim Cambodians–began to produce tools from iron.
The village chief of Chrak Romeat Grandfather Kok Matt, who is about 50 years old, says there are approximately 176 people living in Chrak Romear and of them, more than 60 percent are blacksmiths. The rest own other small businesses.
Grandfather Kok says all the iron tools produced in the village are sold throughout the Kingdom. "In the past the products were also exported to Thailand, Laos and Vietnam. But now Thailand has factories to produce those tools."
However, he says proudly that all the blacksmiths in the village are still busy with their work, because the users know the quality of foreign-made products cannot be compared with those produced in the village. "Because, the longer you use our products, the sharper they become. As for the imported ones, after their tempered edges are worn out, they can no longer be used. Therefore our products remain very popular."
Although careers in blacksmithing have been improving the living conditions of Cambodia’s Muslim population, blacksmiths nowadays do not want their children to follow in their footsteps because the trade is difficult. They say because there are more schools now and the world continues to modernize, they will let their children decide on their own futures.
"As parents, we just try to make as much money as possible to support them so that they will have a better life than us. But I love this career more than any other and I am happy to continue with it as long as possible," Grandfather Kok says.