Leaning against the platform in a Pnong longhouse, I gazed into the cooking fire. The man at the fire’s edge was slowly roasting an iguana for breakfast. Another iguana lay at the man’s side, nearly dead. Another man came over and picked up the helpless lizard and flopped its head onto the hot coals. I felt sorry for the two reptiles.

My attention turned from the roasting iguanas to a young man who had just entered at the far end of the longhouse. He was the son of Mbut Rapo, the man I had come to find.

Braden Pewitt had told me Mbut Rapo was a unique man. Not only was he a village elder, he was also a skilled blacksmith and knife maker. Earlier in the year, Braden had met Mbut Rapo and bought two special Pnong knives with water-buffalo-horn handles. Few Pnong people know how to carve horn in the traditional way. Mbut Rapo had offered to make a horn pipe as well, and Braden agreed to buy it.

In all the busyness of preparing for their move back to the States, Braden hadn’t had time to pick up the pipe from Mbut Rapo. Since my family and I would be driving the Pewitts to the airport in Phnom Penh later that day, I decided to visit Mbut Rapo to pick up Braden’s pipe. Also, I am interested in knife making and wanted to get to know more people in Upper Boan Village.

In the longhouse, I sent up another prayer that God would guide me to Mbut Rapo. His son led me out of the longhouse, and we got on our motorcycles and headed off to his father’s field.

I found Mbut Rapo cutting bamboo into long strips, preparing to weave a basket. He set his tools down and greeted me with a hearty “Way-lang,” the traditional Pnong greeting. I responded in kind, and he invited me into his field house and gave me a hot drink to push back the morning chill. Soon we were lost in conversation about making baskets, knives and pipes.

I was fascinated by Mbut Rapo and knew I could learn a lot from him. His knives were different from the usual Pnong knives I had seen. The traditional style of knife he made was smaller than normal, yet very functional. Even his personal bush knife had a water-buffalo-horn handle.

Mbut Rapo gave me the horn pipe he had made for Braden and then showed me four others he had carved to sell. I examined them and pointed out things I liked about them. He told me he had made the pipes because he needed money to fix his motorcycle. I was happy to buy all of the pipes from him. After a while, I said my farewells. I needed to get home and finish preparing for the drive to Phnom Penh.

I know I will return to Mbut Rapo’s house again to talk with him and learn more about his handiwork and Pnong culture. Please pray for God’s blessing as we build relationships with our Pnong friends. Pray that He will help us get to know them at a deep, personal level so we can better share Christ with them.

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