The country turned to the insects during famine, but now the bugs are fine dining.
PHUM THUN MONG, CAMBODIA -- By day, the emerald rice fields look like ordinary, peaceful paddies. But when dusk falls, sheets of plastic unfurl from bamboo frames, electric-blue neon tubes flicker on, and hordes of Cambodian crickets are lured to untimely, watery deaths.
The humble chirping cricket became a part of Cambodians' diet during the famine years of the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s and has remained a part of Cambodia's cuisine since.
But this year, huge numbers of Cambodians in central Kampong Thom province have jumped in
on the business as demand has spiked, leading to innovative ways of catching the critters.
Roadside at the village of Thun Mong, 40-year-old Soun Sang smokes a cigarette in the violet light cast by some of his lamps, awaiting the night's haul with some trepidation as an unusual drizzle sets in.
"Some nights only a few come, so it's really not reliable," he says, gesturing to the horizon, where blue lights zigzag as far as the eye can see. "But when there are a lot, there might be 3,000 kilograms collected in this area."
Like many in this village, Mr. Sang started catching crickets this year when he noticed his neighbours setting up newfangled traps and doing well. They earn 2,000 to 5,000 riel (between 60 cents and $1.50) a kilogram.
The traps, devised only a season or two ago, consist of a rectangular bamboo frame hung with a sheet of plastic, topped by a blue fluorescent tube to attract the insects, and powered by a car battery or diesel generator. A pond is dug to catch the crickets after they hit the plastic and hurtle to the ground.
They seem simple but still cost about 170,000 riel to put together, a serious investment in impoverished Cambodia, where more than a third of the population gets by on under a dollar a day.
Mr. Sang recalled how he began eating crickets in desperation during the 1975-79 ultra-Maoist Khmer Rouge regime, which oversaw the deaths of up to two million Cambodians, many from starvation.
"We started eating them during Pol Pot's regime, but back then we caught the crickets by digging holes. We didn't have these lamps," he said. "We had to play hide and seek [to avoid capture and punishment] and at that time we toasted them over a fire. Now we can fry them up in oil and they have a better taste. And now I'm not worried at all about being caught."
Mr. Sang lost an arm and several fingers when he stepped on a land mine in 1988. He now keeps cows and draws a monthly pension of 100,000 riels.
"If the crickets come, I can make a really good profit. Some nights I collect up to 30 kilograms," Mr. Sang, a father of two, said.
At Arunras restaurant -- considered the best in Kampong Thom city -- manager Nari, who declined to give her surname, demonstrated how to eat the insects, selecting from a tray of crickets fried with green onions, garlic and salt.
She sells about 20 kilograms a day but first offered the insects, until recently seen as unsophisticated street food in Cambodia, only a month ago as her customers started demanding them.
The 45-year-old entrepreneur used her ruby-polished nails to pluck a dewinged and gutted carcass off the pile. She snapped off and discarded two thick hind legs before biting into the head with a crunch. A plate of about 50 costs 5,000 riel.
"People eat them with beer or just about anything at all.," she said, popping the rest of the insect into her lipsticked mouth.
Ou Bossphoan, director of the provincial Department of Agriculture, is taking the upsurge in demand seriously.
"People need extra income and this provides Kampong Thom people with a new income," he said in his office, a stone's throw from the market where sellers were offloading the disappointing haul of the night before.
And the senior official confirmed that the cricket obsession is going upmarket.
"Our officials here in the past were not interested in crickets, but this year, we are eating a lot.
When I go to a restaurant, I too order crickets."
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