Obituary: EM Theay, the last dancer of Queen Kossomak
The art of transmission of Lkhon Khol, Khmer Ramayana Dance
Often called “The Tenth Dancer” because she was one of the ten percent of palace artists who survived the Khmer Rouge Genocide, Em Theay quietly passed away in her sleep on June 15, 2021 at age 88 in Phnom Penh. She was well surrounded by the love of her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.
Em Theay has been the center of documentaries, movies, researches, books since 1993, when Cambodia returned to international scene with the Paris Peace Agreements and Australian director Sally Ingleton made an emotional television documentary “the Tenth Dancer”. Em Theay was the seven-year old daughter of the Palace cook who was noticed by Queen Kossomak when her Majesty was trying to revive Khmer traditional dance in the 1940s. Em Theay grew up mastering the character of the Yeak, the Giant, in Ramayana dance. Yeak dancers are admired for their ability to project power through their gestures.
Then the war came, Em Theay lost her husband, five of their children and three sisters during the Khmer Rouge regime. At the end of the war in 1979, she walked 170 miles to return to Phnom Penh and was reunited with her surviving children. She spent the rest of her life to revive dance traditions and to pass on the millennial gestures to the new generations. In 2012, she was nominated by His Majesty Norodom Sihamoni, as one of the first seventeen Living Human Treasures of Cambodia, adding her name to the UNESCO repertory of the intangible cultural heritage of humanity.
It is often said that when one elder dies, a library is burnt down to the ground. Such is not the case with lok yiey grandma Em Theay. She has masterly raised her children and her grandchildren to follow in her steps. There are first and foremost are Yeak dancers Thong Kim An “Yiey Preap” (aunt Preap) and Narim (granddaughter). Then come Hanuman monkey dancer Thong Kim Ly, her son; traditional singer and administrator of the family heritage, granddaughter Narath; Apsara dancers and singers, granddaughters Narem and Naren; then there are the in-laws such as Chey Vatthana, flutist and conductor, Narath’s husband. Beyond her immediate family members, she mentored countless young artists.
When we crossed her path, she was already in her seventies, speaking sparingly but always with a smile on her face. She would always be dressed impeccably, with a Khmer sampot, a white blouse with a scarf crossing her chest. In more ordinary settings, she would have a white cloth over her shoulder as well. Her white curly hair cut ‘au carré’ neatly arranged with hair clips.
She knew where her place was: among the musicians playing live for the dancers, beating the rhythm with small cymbals ‘xing’ or the hard wood clapper ‘krap’. She would be there for hours, beaming with a smile and at times singing. The best place to spot her was on the terrace overlooking the Tonle Sap during the Water Festival, ‘Bon Om Touk’, among the musicians. Musicians sit in front of late King Father, Queen Mother or the King and other dignitaries, playing over three days to encourage the boatmen and appease the spirits of the mighty river.
In the many rehearsals and concerts we prepared, she would come without fanfare into the room with her loyal Yeay Preap, Narath and Vathana who never lose sight of her. She would stay with us the whole day, never complaining. I don’t remember a time when she would raise her voice in the years we have known her.
It’s only when the dancers start to move, especially the Yeak dancers, she would be laser focused, standing near the stage, correcting their gestures. Suddenly she became stern, strict, one could not banter with classical Lkhon Khol. She could not help but dance with them to show the precise postures, each of these have a meaning. Then she would return to her place, among the musicians.
Some people say no before you even ask the question. Em Theay was all the contrary, a bottomless well, open to share her wisdom and her knowledge, as if the more she gives, the more she generates. When our children started their musical education, Em Theay and her family took them under their wings or rather, they put air under their wings so they could fly higher. During the organization of a concert at Angkor Wat back in 2011, Yiey Preab, Em Theay and the whole family put the weight of their names, their brain and their skills to help manage tricky situations.
Our greatest joy was to have Em Theay, Preap and Narim, three generations of Yeak Dancers to perform together at that very concert in front of the Bayon Temple. It was the first time ever they danced together, on the most sacred place in the land. Narim said “If grandma was not here, I would not be here; if she was not here, there would not be any Yeak.”
Maybe the art of transmission is not only to nurture your offspring to carry on and take the baton but beyond them, to spread enough love and knowledge so that other artists can thrive and fly high. That’s what Em Theay did with our children, many artists in Cambodia and beyond. Ork khun chroen, thank you, may you find your way to the Preah Thineang Chan Chhaya[1] to continue your celestial dance.
If you would like to honor Em Theay, reach out to yiey Preab or Nam Narath (https://www.facebook.com/narath.nam) / Khmer language, or Narim (https://www.facebook.com/nam.narim)/English. If you would like to know more about Em Theay, some resources here:
1) Television documentary ‘the Tenth Dancer” by Sally Ingleton
- website: https://360degreefilms.com.au/product/the-tenth-dancer/
- http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/4291873.stm
- https://www.themagdalenaproject.org/sites/default/files/OP9_EmTheay.pdf
Stevens A. (2015). A century artist : Master EM Theay, dancer of the Royal Ballet of the Kingdom of Cambodia. Berlin, edition photoArt
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[1] the Preah Thineang Chan Chhaya (ព្រះទីន័ងច័ន្ទឆាយា) or "Moonlight Pavilion", is an open-air pavilion that serves as stage for Khmer classical dance in the times of Queen Kossomak.